


Great [Monster] Journey

by rserenity



Category: Monster Girl Encyclopedia, Monster Girls | Monster Boys
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Femdom, Lizard Girl, Manticore, Romance, Slime Girl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 16:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 199,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28673736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rserenity/pseuds/rserenity
Summary: A young man breaking fresh into the world of adulthood departs his home island in search of adventure in the larger world. He finds that adventure, sending him straight into the desperate flight of a manticore hell-bent on righting the wrongs done to her and her family. Together they traverse the land in search of their goals, finding others to help them along the way.
Kudos: 12





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> There are 'chapter' markings within the chapters of this story due to the fact that this was originally posted on pastebin (which now no longer allows this content).

The tip thrust into the air, a beacon, shining even in the dimming light. A symbol of power, of majesty! Gleaming, it defied gravity, defied doubt, defied darkness! It soared through the sky, rising ever higher, hopeful, magnanimous in its—

“You’re not going.”

The sword tip drooped, defeated by the statement, sinking from the great heights it once knew, yearning to feel them again.

“But you said anything!”

A relentless warrior, noble and proud, fought for his cause, his dream. The beauty of determination shone strong in his resolve, unbroken, unbent.

“This is not included in that ‘anything’. You are not going on an adventure, you are staying right here!”

Galen’s sword fell to the ground with a resounding crash, his chest deflating much as a filled water skin bleeds when ruthlessly punctured. The great smile he once wore sunk to a morose frown.

“Dad, I have earned this, haven’t I? I want to see the world across the sea! I want to fight monsters and discover hidden treasures like the adventurer in your tales!”

Galen’s mother rested her hand on one of his father’s broad shoulders. “Dear, I think we could at least consider it. He has learned how to use that sword.”

“Under Faltho, who’s never used a sword in a real fight before and knows nothing of how to teach true swordsmanship. Plus, Galen hardly has the build.”

Hearing this, Galen puffed up, planting one foot atop a rock and flexing his muscles to exacerbate the pose. “I can fight! Look!”

His father winced at the display.

“He’s light on his feet,” said Galen’s mother.

“And the monsters are lighter, some not even restricted by feet. It’s not safe, in fact it’s downright irresponsible. How would you even get past the Kraken, anyways? It hasn’t allowed anyone past the fishing waters for decades,” said his father, spinning around and heading back inside. “Oh, and sheath that sword and put it back. The celebration is in an hour, when the sun sets. You shouldn’t be all muddy when it comes around.”

The poor water skin lost its remaining water. Hanging his head, Galen grabbed the sword and sheath, dragging his feet as he headed toward the house. This was supposed to be his day! He’d been looking forward to it for years. Each time he heard those incredible stories of a brave man defeating the odds, gaining respect, powerful artifacts, and invaluable experience, he’d picture himself there. Away from this island. Today he was supposed to have set out for the mainland and started his journey to come back with tales and wonders. He even knew where he’d start.

His father had told him all about monsters. While their island was empty of such beings, the mainland was full of them. Mysterious creatures, all women, almost all very powerful. Some lived in the cities, but many enjoyed prowling the land, adventuring on their own, or perhaps living out of a den and caring for their young. Galen’s father said all men needed to steel themselves to the temptation of pleasure in order to keep their wits. They used their power to capture or rape men, and that any wanderer without skill or strength would surely fall victim to their wiles. With this in mind, Galen had trained, both under Faltho, the village master-of-sword, and his father.

But without his father’s approval, his preparation was all for naught. If his coming-of-age day wasn’t good enough for his father, who could tell what would be? Many years might pass before he could leave the island, and even then, he might not be permitted to go alone. The heroes in his father’s tales didn’t have babysitters, they had powerful allies. Monsters of virtue! Warrior veterans of a thousand battles!

Holding up his sword, he looked at his reflection. He’d polished it just for today, too. Staring back at him was another man, a stranger, one drained of fire and life. His hand tightened on the grip. No, he couldn’t give up. Not yet.

“Galen, dear.”

Galen looked up at his mother. He saw a familiar pain in her eyes. She put her hand on his shoulders, squeezing them while she beheld her defeated son. Galen’s father was a tough man, she knew it. That’s why she had planned for this.

After taking a quick glance toward the door, she reached under her billowing dress to reveal a backpack. She pushed it against Galen’s chest and he grabbed it on instinct, looking between it and his mother in confusion.

“I knew what you would ask for today, and I suspected your father would object. But I know you. You’re my son. If you go out on a journey, you’ll come back safe. You might think your father is being strict, but he’s only so protective because he’s proud of you.”

Galen squeezed on the backpack, blinking at his mother and at a loss for words. With each word she spoke, his eyes widened further.

“He doesn’t want to lose his precious son. And that’s how I know you’re ready.”

“B-but, the Kraken! Dad’s right!” His voice started to quiver. Even he had begun to doubt.

“You had a plan already, didn’t you? I believe in you.” She pushed him away, toward his journey. Holding up her dress to keep it from dragging, she scurried up the hill to their house. Before going inside, she paused, turning back to Galen. “Hurry! You’ll only have so much time before he notices! The pack has three days’ worth of food and water and a change of clothes. That will get you to the first city on the mainland, but it’s no good if your father catches you before you’re out past the fishing waters! Now go!”

The fire relit, Galen nodded. With a rigid wave and a smile that fought to break into sobs, Galen bid his mom farewell. He slung the backpack over his shoulder and ran.

His heart was thumping like mad before he even hit the main route out of town. With the town being as small as it was, there were no roads, instead just worn, dirt paths where the earth was too thoroughly trampled for grass to grow. Galen ran faster and harder than he ever had, each step hitting the dirt with a resounding thud. He ran with a grin on his face, doing all he could to keep his heart from fluttering out of his chest. His legs felt like as strong as iron, his chest as light as air. He floated across the town, catching gazes and waves from everyone, shouts of congratulations for his coming-of-age day and jovial greetings following him on his sprint.

He made sure to etch each wooden home into his memory, make note of every clothesline and garden, every thatched roof and animal pen. He burst through a gathering of chickens, scattering them like leaves to the wind. He hollered out an apology, but didn’t stop or slow. He couldn’t have if he tried.

Soon he came upon the beach his town called a harbor. Several long wooden piers cut into the sea, most accompanied by a boat or two. With the sun about to set, the fisherman had about all called it a day. Galen went straight for the furthest pier, his grin growing when he spotted his trusty boat. It wasn’t as impressive as any of the fishing boats, but it had what he needed: a sail, rudder, and oars. At ten feet long, it wasn’t for any more than two people, but Galen almost never brought anyone out with him. His father had joined him on its maiden voyage, a short trip around the bay, but after he was sure Galen knew how to navigate, he was allowed to go out whenever he wished as long as the sun was up.

He paused on the pier, staring at his boat, ‘Treasure’. Today he would be breaking that rule, too. The sun would definitely be setting before he found the other side of the sea, but if he kept momentum and the wind was with him, he could make it to the mainland in a day. At least, that’s what the villagers suspected. No one had been to the mainland in many decades. The knowledge of exactly how far out it lay had fogged over the years. Galen curled his hands into fists and hit them together. What was an adventure without breaking rules? Besides, he had much greater things to worry about than curfews.

His heart burst into flame, the same sort of flame that danced in his eyes. Time to go.

The boat was undocked and pushed out before he knew it. With his sprint over, he had a chance to catch his breath. The sun behind him, he looked over the small village he called home one last time. He said his thank-yous: to his friends, for giving him joy in the little things. To his teachers, for giving him a bit of knowledge about everything. To his mother, for being there when he needed it, for being gentle or harsh when the situation called for it, and for making this trip possible. To his father, for teaching him how to be a man, for giving him dreams, for looking out for him. He would return one day, that was certain. He’d return a true man, grown and wise, with his own stories, but about real adventures this time, instead of the imaginary heroes in his fathers’ tales.

“GALEN!” His father yelled at him from the end of the pier. He could hardly make him out. Only from his father’s voice could he tell who it was for certain.

“DAD! I’m going to be a real adventurer! I’ll make you proud!”

“Come back this instant!”

Galen clamped his mouth shut, setting down the oars and standing up, withdrawing his sword and thrusting the tip into the air. “This is my dream! Who am I without a dream?”

“You’re my son!”

Taking a big breath, he belted out his last words as loud as he could. “No! But I will be!” His father’s son was someone he could be truly proud of. A seasoned ranger, a man his own.

The last syllable echoed throughout the bay, among the waters, through the harbor and across the village. Galen stood tall, sword in the air, staring at his dad staring back at him

Galen lowered the sword, slipping it back into its sheath before collapsing back onto his rear. Him and his father were too far to speak now, but they could still see each other, small specks in the distance only growing smaller. They watched each other as long as they could, but eventually Galen couldn’t make out his father from the rest of the pier. It was all just one black blip. Swallowing, he fought back a tear, digging into the oars as he went out. The sea was gentle tonight, leaving most of the work to Galen’s arms. Hopefully further out he could rely on the wind. Tonight he wanted to get past the fishing waters at the very least.

The barrier wasn’t far out, and Galen soon found himself nearing the floating markers. Shortly after the Kraken first appeared, the fisherman realized they needed some sort of visual reminder of the furthest they could venture from the island. After the sacrifice of several boats and some clever know-how by a couple specific fisherman, they’d come up with a method. A large steak, made of metal, dropped down to dig into the sea floor and tied to a plank of wood with a flag of sorts atop it. The markers shifted back and forth with the tides, but the steaks did their jobs of keeping them mostly in place.

Galen shook with glee as he approached one. This was the real beginning of his adventure, journeying out further than anyone else in the village had for decades! His hope was that one small boat, setting out at night, would go unnoticed by the Kraken. She tended only to appear for the larger boats, often only when manned. Treasure was less than half the size of most fishing boats and only had one crew member. Letting out a long breath, Galen surged the boat forwards with a heave of the oars. Just like that, he was past the markers.

He set the oars down to punch his fists together again.

A low rumble arose from the depths, gripping Galen not with fear, but exhilaration. The boat rocked back and forth, threatening to toss Galen overboard, but he had stable enough sea legs to keep himself steady. The rumble grew, gradually at first, louder until Galen was sure the source was upon him. For a second, everything calmed. Not a sound within miles, nor a sight beyond the shrinking view of Galen’s home island.

The water exploded a short ways out, a great geyser spraying Galen and ‘Treasure’ with seawater. He shielded his eyes with one hand. The other went to his sword. Hopefully he wouldn’t need to fight, but his dad always told him to be ready.

The creature emerging from the sea rose up and up, at least ten feet over Galen. It wasn’t massive, but certainly larger than Galen and his little boat. When the seaspray died down, he could make out the form. From the waist up, it was a woman: two lithe, lengthy arms, crossed under an impressive set of breasts, ones like Galen had never seen on his home island. Her slim build supported a slender neck and hardened face, though the jawline and cheekbones were undeniably feminine. Her eyes were narrowed down at Galen and the longer they settled on him, the more mischievous they became. Atop her head lied a bed of gorgeous grayish-white hair, somehow unbroken or unfrayed by the constant assault of salt water. Usually Galen associated gray hair with olden people, but this creature’s form was anything but aged… at least in appearance. Her smooth stomach flowed into wide hips, accentuating the rest of her curvy body, but from the hips below were a great number of tentacles. Squid-like and grey, they squirmed and writhed about, feeding into the sea.

This was undoubtedly the Kraken.

Galen began to wonder what she was doing with those tentacles when several emerged from the water around his boat. ‘Treasure’ was wrapped up within seconds and taken a few feet out of the water. The lurch made Galen stumble and this time he lost his balance and flopped over, but instead of hitting the deck, a tentacle met him halfway, coiling around his chest and pinning his arms to his sides. Galen was about to thank her for catching him when he realized she wasn’t letting go. As the tentacle tightened and took him closer to her feminine half, two more took hold, one wrapping up his legs and the other holding his head steady where the Kraken could inspect his face. He stopped only a foot from her.

He took the opportunity to observe her up close, something probably no one else ever got the chance to do. The way the seawater flowed over her silky human skin and leathery tentacle skin entranced him. It was like a hundred tiny waterfalls on her tentacles, but on her human skin, it dripped much slower, as if the flow itself wished him to stare. Eventually, he wretched his attention upward to her face, finding it just as curious in him as he her… though there lied a definite hint of fervor in her motions as well.

“A young lad, coming so far out to sea. It has been a while since one of you has tried to leave. Are you lost, little one?” She laid her sweet voice on thick like honey.

“Nope! I’m going on an adventure!” Galen grinned. A sunny disposition was the best way to make friends, he found.

“Are you?” She glanced down at his boat. “A bit small for venturing the sea, don’t you think?”

“Not at all! I know I can get to the mainland in Treasure!”

“You sound sure of that, but here you are, your adventure hardly started, and you’ve already been wrapped up in the Kraken’s tentacles.” She ran the top row of her teeth slowly across her lower lip. “It’s been so long since a man has ventured out into these waters, too.”

“Ah, but you can just let me down and I’ll be on my way now that you know I mean no harm or malice! I’ve got lots of things to experience on the mainland. When I come back, I can tell you all about them!”

The Kraken’s tentacles began slithering over Galen’s body, slipping under his clothes to explore his skin. They slid across his body easily, leaving some sort of sea slime in their wake.

“Woah! Hey! Those are really kinda ticklish, aren’t they?”

The Kraken’s tongue slipped out, giving an exaggerated lick of her lips as she bore down on Galen. “They can be ticklish or… other things.”

Giggling, Galen squirmed in the Kraken’s grip, small bursts of laughter coming forth when her tentacles groped his sides. “W-well you’re just the curious sort a-aren’t you?”

He felt the tentacle on his chest start to drop down and the one on his legs move upward, but just when he thought they would reach his waist, they withdrew. Disappointment flashed on Galen’s face. He wondered how they might feel if they had gone a little further.

The coy smile on the Kraken’s face degenerated into a sour frown and she placed Galen back on ‘Treasure’. His head spun from how quickly her demeanor changed.

“Uh, so, are you done inspecting me? Can I go now?”

“No.” He voice was no longer sweet or thick but rather flat and unassuming.

“Can I change your mind? I have some great food from—“

“No. You need to go back.” She brought up a tentacle to rest her elbow on, then leaned her head on her arm, regarding Galen like a faraway treasure forever beyond her reach. “If she just allowed me a little taste every now and then…”

“Wait, who?”

“Poseidon. Or Poseidoness, if you want to call her that way. It doesn’t matter to her. She rules the seas.”

Galen cocked his head. “And she told you no one could pass? Or that you couldn’t have a ‘taste’?”

“Yes, it makes things rather dull around here. It used to be boats would come through with no interference from her and I could take and give as I wished.” She grinned. “Maybe a bit more ‘taking’ than ‘giving’.”

“But it’s not that way any more? Why?”

“I wish I knew. I’ve asked her countless times why I must stay here and patrol this boring part of the sea. There are much more productive things I could be doing.” Her eyes feasted on Galen again. “More scrumptious meals to be had.”

Galen rubbed his chin. She kept giving him the weirdest looks. But that wasn’t important at the moment. He had to get by. “Do you think you could let this one little boat by? For me?”

“Oh, believe me, if I thought I could get away with it, my tentacles would be much busier doing other things at the moment.” She gave Galen that weird look again. “But nothing happens without her knowledge. She likely already knows you’ve passed the fishing waters of your island and that I’ve come to stop you. In truth, I should be destroying your boat and leaving you to swim back on your own, but you’ve given me the pleasure of something to do besides mindlessly wander the ocean, so I’m feeling forgiving.”

“What if I could find out why Poseidon is making you do this? What if I could get her to change her mind?”

“Oh?” The Kraken brought her feminine half lower, near Galen. “And why would a human like you care about the lives of monsters?”

“Well, for one, I want to continue on my journey, but if I can change her mind, the people in my village would be able to get back to the mainland and you would be able to go back to your exciting life!”

“Poseidon is not easily convinced of anything. Not even I haven been able to get through to her.”

“Then I’ll just have to try harder!”

The Kraken cupped her chin, tapping her fingers on her cheek as she considered. “Hmmmm.” Her eyes went down to Galen’s crotch and she subconsciously licked her lips again. “You are rather green, but I do miss the taste so, and who knows if I’d ever get a chance like this again?” She lowered her hand and grinned. “Alright. I will let you pass under the condition that you seek out Poseidon and attempt to sway her.”

“A quest? Already? This is fantastic!” Galen whooped, jumping into the air and pumping his fist.

“When you find her, do not attempt to reach her the same way you have me. ‘Trying harder’ and using nothing but determination won’t work. You must find out why she is opposed to travel here and use that. Do you understand?”

Galen swallowed. He’d been letting his gusto get the better of him again. His father always told him to cut that back. “Yes.”

“By the way, I would not mind if you returned with all those stories of your ‘experiences’ on the mainland.” A tentacle coiled around his leg, creeping up his pants. Galen’s arousal flared up again. “I promise to be a good listener.”

“You got it!” Galen said, shaking his leg. This must be those ‘wiles’ his father had told him about. He felt pretty good about resisting them. Plopping back down into his seat, he grabbed the oars and readied to sail again. The Kraken, however, did not put ‘Treasure’ down. “Um, so, are you going to let me go?”

“There is a slight complication here. You see, if I simply let you down to sail across on your own, not only will Poseidon know of my disobedience, but another creature of the sea would stop you before you made it to your destination.” More tentacles rose from the sea, gripping ‘Treasure’ in various places. “But if you were to somehow make it there very quickly, without touching the water, Poseidon would assume I had dealt with you and you could go about your quest uninterrupted. So I must improvise.” She brought the boat up, close to her upper body. Galen looked at her, curious. She reached out, grabbed the sides of his head, and kissed him straight on the lips. Galen’s head spun, trying to figure out what to do, but the Kraken withdrew before his senses returned. “Good luck.”

She threw him, boat and all.

Had Galen’s grip on the boat not tightened in response to her kiss, the boat would have flown out from underneath him. He ripped through the air, face shifting from shock to a ridiculous grin. He ate up miles in seconds, flying only a few precious feet over the water. The mast buckled and shook and the body of the boat shivered as if it would burst at any moment. Her strength blew his mind. He knew she was a monster, and that monsters were powerful, but her lithe form was awfully deceptive. On the journey back, he’d definitely have to thank her.

The mainland came into view at a startling pace, going from a blip on the horizon to a discernible heap of land before he realized what it was. The Kraken had throw him with speed to spare. He wouldn’t be landing on water at all! Galen, however, the brave adventurer he was, withdrew his sword, pointed it to the air, and shouted,

“Great Journey, begin!”

He hit the ground with a resounding crash.

**Chapter 2**

“Oh, what do we have here?”

Galen’s eyes shot open. Directly about his face, filling his vision, hovered a cute, mischievous smile. A woman, Galen could tell, with light amber hair and piercing eyes a deeper shade of red. Her smile showed off her teeth, clean and mostly square like normal, except her canines were especially sharp. Each of her breaths hit Galen’s face lightly, filling his nostrils with a scent of maple and meat. Galen allowed himself a breath, eyes locked with hers, unwilling to tear his gaze away lest she make a move. His body tensed, waiting for her to act.

“You’re cute.”

The tension rushed out of him all at once and his look twisted into one of confusion. “Huh?”

“I would’ve settled for just about any meal, but you’re cute on top of being a male. How lucky for me?”

Galen had confidence in many things, but his looks wasn’t one of them. He’d always been a scrawny lad, not exactly a magnet for the young women of his home village. The compliment, however, made his heart flutter a bit.

Until he registered the ‘meal’ statement. He grabbed blindly for his sword, glad to find it still attached to his hip, then rolled out and away from the woman. Once he was far enough away, he hopped to his feet, drawing his sword in one quick, albeit clumsy, motion. He then proceeded to almost drop the sword upon seeing the stranger’s entire body. She wasn’t human at all.

The first thing he noticed was the fur, covering her legs from the knees downward and her arms from the elbow downward. She didn’t have normal feet or hands, but instead paws. They were certainly larger than a human foot or hand, but not so much so. Galen swallowed when she waved a paw-hand at him, playfully reaching for him much like a cat would. His eyes then found her bat wings, folded mostly in but still visible. They looked a bit small to be functional for the size of her body, but certainly they would appear larger when spread. Despite the paws and wings, most of her body was human. Her thighs, firm and slick, attached to wide, curvy hips. Her stomach, as well as Galen could see, was slim and smooth. Just above that were her breasts, massive in Galen’s eyes. They rivaled the largest Galen had seen on the island… maybe larger. He couldn’t tell from his position, but the bra she wore certainly had a hard time holding them in. Circling her neck was a white tuft of fur, one much like those where her fur began at her legs and arms. The face she wore glowed of both mischievous and light-hearted fun. A bloom of untamed light amber hair covered her head, some even blocking her face from view. Buried in her hair were two ears, fluffy and twitching with alertness.

Galen steeled himself. This was a monster. A real monster! His first challenge, so soon. He was about to grin when he noticed something moving, a part of her body he hadn’t seen before. A tail.

It curled around from the monster’s back, segmented and dexterous with its movement. The tip of it dripped with something thick as syrup, a paralyzing poison, if Galen had to guess. Barbs sprouted from the bulb at the end, all looking dangerous and sharp. Galen wouldn’t be surprised if they were covered in the same sort of poison. He thought that was all until the tail opened. His breath caught; it was pulsing inside, more and more of that goop coming forth. From the looks of it, though, it wasn’t jagged or rigid, but soft. Meant for pleasure, not pain.

The monster pet her tail, delighted with Galen’s reaction.

“Do you like it? It’s very good at what it does.”

Galen straightened his back, grinning. He’d just have to avoid that tail. Besides, a little pleasure never hurt anyone. “I challenge you, monster! You will be my first victory!”

The monster stood up, putting her paws together and smirking at Galen. “Your first? You think as a novice you could beat a manticore? Your ignorance is so cute.”

“I have trained for this day! Here I come!” Galen burst forward, not wanting to let the manticore play her mind games.

Her knees bent, body tensing to burst into action. “Even telling me when you’re charging? Foolish.”

Galen’s first attack was a diagonal downward slash. He placed his feet just like his teacher told him, swinging from the hips as well as the arms. The sword gave a satisfying whistle as it came down, Galen already exhilarated with the thrill of combat.

The manticore’s monster body moved faster than any of the people he’d practiced with. The slash may have well have been in slow motion. He legs took her out of reach of the sword, and once the blow was safely past, she swiped at the flat of the blade. Her blow almost took the sword from his grip, but Galen had been using proper hand posture and was able to hold on. Her tactic, however, shocked him into pausing. He’d never fought an opponent who would just swat at a bare weapon. His hesitance almost cost him the fight right there.

Another swipe came at his head so quick it blurred. Galen barely had enough time to duck under it, dodging backward and re-gripping his sword before raising it into the default combat stance he’d been taught.

The manticore’s smirk widened. “Fast enough to avoid my attack and you know how to hold yourself. More than I expected. Maybe I can have a little fun.”

She took the offensive this time, her tail darting forward, waving those dangerous spines around, trying to catch Galen with their venom. He blocked a couple blows with his sword, but tried to keep to dodging for the most part. He didn’t know if cutting her tail would just cause more of that venom to leak out. When she pulled her tail back, Galen dove in, looking for an opening. His sword struck like a viper, jab after jab after jab. He aimed for her exposed skin, not knowing how thick that fur was. It probably didn’t make the best armor, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t at least weaken his blows. As fast as he thought he moved, though, the manticore moved faster, squirming and hopping away.

“Ha!” Galen cried out as he surged forward, this time with a horizontal strike. With a flourish of wings, the manticore jumped clear over the swing, coiling up her legs. Galen realized his mistake when that smirk returned to her face. With the momentum of the sword still dragging him along, he was helpless. The manticore struck Galen’s face with her feet, the padded paws making a surprisingly solid striking appendage when needed. Galen grunted as the blow connected, knocking him off his feet and the sword from his hands. He hit the ground hard, coughing as it pushed the air from his lungs. On instinct, he tried to get up, but the manticore was already atop him, paws securing his arms and legs.

Galen squirmed under her grip, but she was far too powerful for him. “I won’t lose so easily!”

“Mmm, are you sure? Human males aren’t that strong compared to manticores.” Her claws shot out and dug into the ground, securing Galen’s limbs further. “Should you really be so confident?”

Galen fought as hard as he could for almost a minute, grunting, writhing, his blood rushing to his face with effort. The manticore hardly moved at all, watching his face with amusement as he tried to shake her off. He couldn’t keep it up forever, though, and his strength soon depleted.

Oh well, he thought. “This is one of those rape things, isn’t it?”

The manticore’s face soured. “What?”

“I mean, I lost. You’re gonna rape me now, right?”

Raising an eyebrow, the manticore leaned back, her body loosening on Galen. “You sound far too indifferent to this.”

“First time rape-ee, I guess, but I’ve never gotten the whole rape thing. I was always told it was a terrible thing, but at the same time, it’s just forced sex, right? And sex is supposed to feel good.” He shrugged. “I guess I’ll know after this, right?”

The manticore poked Galen’s cheek with one of her claws several times, watching for a reaction.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to figure out if you’re for real or not.”

“Oh, I’m definitely real. Don’t need to test that.” He shifted under the manticore, trying to get comfortable. “But let’s get on with the rape time. I’m really curious now.”

The manticore leveled her eyes at Galen, hitting him with a deadpan stare. “You know what? I’ve lost my appetite.” She pushed up off the ground, stood up, then started walking away.

“Wh--hey! You beat me! You’re supposed to rape me now!” Galen stumbled to his feet, collecting his fallen sword and sheathing it.

“You’re just another guy looking to get off. Boring.”

“Come back!” Galen made to chase her, then remembered his backpack. He scrambled back to the wreckage of ‘Treasure’, lamenting a moment for his boat before scanning the area for his backpack. Every now and then, he’d steal a glance back at the manticore, making sure he could tell where she was heading. The forest line wasn’t far off. He’d have to get his backpack before he lost her in there.

Lucky for him, his backpack’s green stood out against the pale tan of the wreckage and he found it without much searching. He threw it on and ran after the manticore, hoping she hadn’t started running. With the speed she displayed in the fight, she’d outrun him for sure.

He ducked into the forest, spotting the manticore shortly after, and caught up with her.

He slapped a hand on her shoulder. “Hey! You’re supposed to rape me!”

She rolled her eyes, brushing his hand off. “Please. People like you kill my hunger. I thought you were really fighting me, but that wasn’t the case, was it?” That sweet, sultry tone from earlier had all but disappeared.

Galen gasped. “Are you insulting my fighting? I mean, I might be a little new, but that was definitely a real fight!”

“Uh huh. The way you dodged my first attack, that should’ve gone on a lot longer. You know, if you had played the rape part differently, I might’ve gone through with it and we both would’ve walked away satisfied.” She rubbed her stomach, frowning. “Now I just have a stomach ache.”

“A stomach ache? Do you eat semen?”

The manticore stopped to gape at Galen. “Seriously? You’re serious. You are seriously asking me that question. Did you grow up in a cave or something?”

Galen crossed his arms, looking away as he frowned. “Well sor-ry if I don’t know everything about manticores! And I did NOT grow up in a cave, I grew up on Nox!”

“Nox?” The manticore’s face softened. “The island Nox?”

“Yes, the island. Is there another place called Nox?”

Ignoring his question, the manticore turned back the way they came considering something that had just come to mind. “Hmm. With the wreckage and your ignorance, that would made sense.”

Galen stomped his foot. “Ignorance? I’ll have you know I went through plenty of schooling!”

She regarded him with incredulity. “Enough to know that monsters consume semen?”

“W-well…” He did a poor job of keeping from blushing.

“That’s what I thought. If you want my advice, get yourself another boat and go home. You’re not ready for this world.” The manticore continued on her way, content with leaving Galen where he was.

“That is exactly why I’m on my adventure! To learn all about the world, to become stronger and maybe even famous!” he said, but she kept walking away.

He wasn’t done with her yet. He started after her but she sped up. He went broke into a jog and she started running. Before long, they were both in full sprint, but just as Galen suspected, the manticore was a fair bit faster than him. Trees, foliage and dead braches all whizzed by in a blur of brown and green. His heart thudded in his chest so loud he could hear it ring in his ears. He put on a burst of speed, devoting everything he could too keeping her in sight, but it wasn’t enough. More and more brush got in the way. His legs grew heavy and arms weary. After what felt like minutes of sprinting, he gave up, leaning over and putting his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Not only was the manticore a good few inches taller than him, giving her longer legs, but her physique was impressive as well. Galen, as much as he hated to admit it, was cursed with a scrawny body, no matter how active he was or how hard he trained.

As he stood there, recovering, a stray thought wandered into his head. Why didn’t she just fly away? Those wings looked functional. Either she was confident she could outrun him without trouble, or something kept her from flying. Galen stood up straight, striking his fists together. If the former was true, there was nothing to be done. But if the latter were true, and she couldn’t escape by air, there was still hope. He’d show he what all he learned on Nox by tracking her down! His father had gone out with him on many occasions, teaching him how to spot tracks, broken brush, feces, and all the little marks fleeing animals left behind. The chase wasn’t over yet.

It took some time to find the first sign left by the manticore, but after that, things went easy for Galen. The manticore clearly either didn’t care if Galen tracked her, or didn’t think he had the ability to. As he followed the trail, for the first time it registered with him what time of day it was. He’d left Nox at sunset, but his encounter with the manticore happened with the sun risen beyond the horizon. He paused to check its current position. It must be around noon now, so he’d been unconscious, lying near the wreck for one night. Any longer and his stomach would’ve already started growling like crazy.

Briefly, he wondered what his mom and dad were doing. Mom had probably gotten back to life without much trouble, though Galen could see her stepping out the front door to look across the sea and wonder where her son had gotten to. His father might still be mad about his sudden departure, possibly even considering coming after him. In the end, though, he’d likely discount that as ‘rash’. That’s what Galen hoped. His father wasn’t one much for extreme decisions like leaving the island.

Galen continued on the manticore’s trail, keeping to a light jog. His stomach began to gnaw at him as did his throat. He stopped briefly to pull out the waterskin his mom had packed and filled for him, taking a long drink before putting it back. He didn’t want to stop to eat, however, as he had no idea how fast the manticore traveled on foot.

It turned out, not quickly at all. Not even an hour later, he caught sight of her a ways off, strolling through the forest, clearing in no rush. Galen didn’t want to give her a head start if she wanted to start running again, so he gained on her as quiet as possible. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning. He was actually stalking prey! On his own! This adventure had not failed to live up to expectations at all so far.

“Alright, come on out, you’re not the stealthy guy you think you are.”

Galen’s grin vanished. Drat. Hanging his head, he jogged up to the manticore. She waited for him with one paw tapping the ground and one on those impressively-wide hips of hers.

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that. Why do you insist on following me?”

“Because you haven’t raped me yet, and you’re supposed to! How am I going to learn anything if you’re messing with the way of things like this?”

“You make no sense. I’ve never had someone beg so hard to be raped. You know it stops being rape when you ask for it, right?”

Puffing his chest out, Galen crossed his arms. “So? I was always told monsters raped the men they defeated. Doesn’t matter whether they wanted it or not.”

“Oh, sweet goddess, what did I do to deserve this? On the one week my wing was damaged, too.” She brought her right wing forward to check it. Galen saw a rather unsightly gash in the middle of it, tearing all the way to the edge.

“I can help you with that. I think.”

For once, the manticore didn’t look like she’d bite his head off when she turned to him. “This isn’t some ploy to get me to rape you, is it? Because it’s not happening.”

“If you rape me, it’s going to be because you’re supposed to rape me and not because I trick you into it! I learned a little bit about healing herbs back home and there’s one that might help heal your wing faster or at least cut down on the pain. I’ll have to check for it in my bag, though.”

“Alright, check your stupid bag,” she grumbled.

After a moment of rummaging through his backpack, Galen found his mom had in fact packed a few herbs. Nothing for seasoning food, like he’d hoped, but he had exactly what he needed for the manticore’s wing. “Yup, got something right here. Just need to make a paste to apply to the wounded spot.”

“That’s not going to take forever, is it?”

“Nah, just a few minutes. I’ve got everything I need here.” He sat down cross-legged, pulling out a mortal a pestle, then got to work. The manticore crossed her arms, watching him. He even started a little hum to pass the time.

“I’m curious,” said Galen. “Why did you stop running? When I caught up, you could’ve just taken off again.”

She sighed. “Manticores don’t have the greatest endurance. While I could outrun you over a short distance, keeping that speed up takes serious effort. Yeah, I could’ve taken off again, but you just showed you could track me.” She took the injured wing between two claws, rubbing the leathery tissue in small circles. “Our escape tactic is supposed to be these wings, but as you can tell, mine are out of commission.”

“Oh, neat.” Galen hummed to himself, smiling as he put the paste together.

The manticore shifted in place, crossing her arms, then resting them at her sides, finally settling at putting them on her hips. “Just so you know, manticores usually aren’t like me.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

“We’re fearsome creatures that like to kidnap men and do all sorts of nasty things to them. Sometimes we even keep the men and make them mates. Had you run into any other manticore, she’d have raped you without a second thought.”

“Huh.” He paused, looking up to the manticore in thought. “I wonder if that makes me lucky I ran into you or not.” He grinned. “You’re certainly lucky you ran into me!”

“Hmph. Don’t get cocky just because I’m letting you do me a favor.”

Galen kept making the paste and the manticore continued to stand awkwardly, trying to amuse herself by looking around at the scenery. They said nothing to each other, letting the wind and rustling trees make all the noise for them. Galen hadn’t spent too much time in the forests of Nox. The peace out here was pleasantly calming. He took in a deep breath of the summer air, smiling to himself.

The manticore eventually got sick of standing around and took a seat next to Galen.

“You’re sitting down?”

“Yes, why wouldn’t I?”

“My mom always told me people only sit down next to people they feel comfortable around. So I guess you’re comfortable around me?”

She shot him an flat stare. “Moreso I have no expectation of you being capable of doing anything harmful to me. And my legs are tired. Your mom just looks into things too much.”

Galen growled. “I know how to use a sword.”

“We both know how that turned out. And besides, what’s the purpose of you healing my wing if you’re just going to pull out your sword?” She sighed. “I guess I wouldn’t put it past you to do something so random. I mean, you did chase me down in an attempt to get me to rape you.”

“That shouldn’t come as a surprise. You won the battle but didn’t rape me. Such weird behavior can’t happen without consequences.”

“And who are you to talk about what’s weird and what is not?”

“Ah! Done.” Galen dipped a leaf into the mush, holding it up for the manticore to see. “I don’t know how effective on wings, but it should help them to heal faster.”

She leaned in, taking a whiff of the paste, then shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt, I guess. Go ahead.” She extended her wing enough for him to access the cut.

“How did you get this?” he asked as he applied the paste.

“Fight. With a lamia.”

“Ooo, a lamia? I haven’t seen one of those yet. Do manticores and lamia usually fight?”

“No, just this particular manticore.” Her face dropped. Not much, but enough for Galen to notice. He didn’t dig into the fight any more, but couldn’t help his curiosity of other things.

“So, what’s this particular manticore’s name?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, considering the question before answering. “Seira.”

“Hi, Seira! I’m Galen.” He offered his hand and a grin. Seira took his hand, her paw enveloping it with ease. They shook, though her shake was much more vigorous than his.

He finished applying the paste in silence, sighing in satisfaction when it was done. “That should do it. Careful not to scrape it off.”

“Of course,” said Seira, inspecting the newly-applied paste and flexing her wing. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome!” Galen said with a smile, packing everything back into his backpack. “But don’t think your injury gets you off the hook for the rape. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“You realize as soon as my wing--which you just helped patch up, by the way--heals, I’m going to fly off and there’s nothing you can do about it?”

“I’ve got strong arms. I’ll hold on.”

Seira pinched the bridge of her nose, shaking her head. Galen brightened up; he was getting to her!

“But while you’re healing, why don’t you come with me? I’m on an adventure!”

“You did mention something about an adventure, didn’t you?”

“Yup. I’ve got two quests I need to complete already, and I’ve hardly started! I could use a companion.”

“Oh really?” Seira raised an eyebrow. “What sort of ‘quests’?”

“Welp, the first is for the Kraken. I need to talk to Poseidon and get her to allow ships to come through the channel between Nox and the mainland.”

“The Kraken? And you’re going to talk to Poseidon herself? Impressive,” Seira said behind her paw, hiding a smile.

“Yeah! And my second quest is to acquire Toneruth!”

The smile vanished. Her paw dropped to the ground, face frozen in shock.

“You’re kidding.”

**Chapter 3**

Galen ducked under another branch, checking behind himself to make sure Seira was still progressing behind him. While he had a more delicate method of moving through the forest, Seira was rather blunt, using her large paws and powerful arms to break off anything that got in her way. The way she traveled, Galen guessed he wouldn’t have had much trouble tracking her whether he knew how to or not. She gave Galen an inquisitive look, half-threatening and half-asking. He spun his head back around to avoid inciting her temper. The travel by foot seemed to annoy her, probably because she was used to moving about by air. Galen didn’t know if she stuck around from interest, because he asked, or because she felt some sort of debt for the healing paste. Either way, she hadn’t run off yet, giving Galen a reason to smile and hum as he walked through the woods.

The sun had begun its long descent toward the horizon. Galen figured they still had a couple hours before nightfall and they’d need to set up camp. He wondered how good Seira’s eyes were and if she could see in the dark. Even if they weren’t any better than Galen’s, those ears were something else. Any stray noise would at the very least cause them to twitch, at most grab her full attention until she determined the noise wasn’t worth investigating. Her tail almost dragged along the ground as she walked, hovering a few scant inches above it. He almost noticed the care she took with her wings, making sure to pull them in around any obstacle her paws couldn’t outright destroy in front of her.

She wasn’t the most talkative companion, but just like Galen, she watched her partner with care, learning what she could from his movements. He felt her eyes on his back almost the entire time. Hopefully it wasn’t to plan some sort of ambush.

Unless it ended in rape. She still owed him that.

“Why are you after Scarlet Lightning, anyways?”

Galen’s humming stopped. He glanced back at her, slowing a step before turning back around. “My father told me about it in his stories, but it was one of the few things the adventurers he talked about never obtained. It came up in several tales, but the only one in which they actually searched for it, they failed.” Galen struck his chest with a fist. “I want to find it to prove I’m just as good as them! Maybe even better! If I come back with a powerful artifact like that, I’ll surely be one of the best!”

“You want it for fame?”

“Fame and respect. People won’t just accept anyone as a real adventurer, you know.”

“And what makes you think you’ll find it where the other adventurers failed?” A crack rang out through the forest as Seira demolished another branch.

“Because I know all of the stories. I know the bits and pieces that each individual adventurer didn’t know. Plus, my father just told imaginary tales and it was more mysterious to tell them as if they never found it.”

“Imaginary, huh?” She jogged a few steps to catch up with Galen. “And where did these ‘imaginary’ tales point you to?”

Galen stopped to pull out the rough map Seira had drawn before they set out. His finger traced their westward route until it came to a ruined city. “Right there.”

“Silere? That place has been sacked and looted more than once. There’s no way anything’s left. What makes you think Toneruth is there?”

“Because it’s hidden.” Galen grinned. He always grew giddy whenever he got the chance to recant his father’s stories. “After the last time it was used and cut out the Scar of the Earth, people and monsters both realized how powerful it really was. The hero that wielded it took it back home with him, but was instructed to keep his whereabouts secret and live a humble life. He was fine with that, having experienced enough adventure for a lifetime, so he went back to Silere and, with the help of some friends, created a place--a secret underground storage--for Toneruth. While he lived, it was safe. But the knowledge of Toneruth was far from secret. The fame the hero gained in his victory followed him back home. Too afraid to challenge the hero, greedy minds sat back and waited. Eventually he passed, giving those people a chance to strike. Humans seeking the power of Toneruth and monsters attempting to keep it from human hands attacked the peaceful village of Silere with the intent of burning it to the ground and ransacking everything. They might have found it if not for the interference of the hero’s monster friends and allies. They pushed back the invaders, but with it too late to save the town, they instead let it burn, taking what was left above ground and returning it to its rightful owners, while ensuring the rest was buried forever.”

Galen felt Seira’s tail lazily wrap around his leg, the tip drooling whatever that goop was on his pants. He couldn’t tell if she was conscious of it or not, as her attention was split between the map and the forest in front of her. “That’s actually more than I knew of it. There may be more to your tales after all.” Beaming, Galen stuffed the map back in his pack. He was about to ask Seira to remove her tail when it unwrapped on its own. The goop was still there, but he knew better than to try to swat it off. Who knew what it did to bare skin?

“What sort of lead do you have on--" She cut herself off, her entire body flipping from relaxed to tense in a second. Galen looked up at her ears. They were twitching like mad.

“What is it?”

“Shh!” She held up a single digit toward Galen, silencing him. Her eyes moved back and forth, something in them Galen hadn’t seen before. Worry.

“We’ve been followed,” she whispered. “C’mon, we need to find cover.”

“Who?”

Seira frowned, grabbing Galen by the arm and lugging him along a few steps until he got the message. Now they moved silently, without breaking branches or tearing up brush like Seira had before. Their steps through the forest floor of brown and withered leaves seemed to have grown much louder now that they paid attention. Every snapped twig was like a yell. With the forest being fairly thin, they were able to keep a decent pace and stay mostly quiet. Unfortunately, that also meant cover was few and far between. Galen could feel his heart thumping in his chest. He almost grinned if not for that look he remembered seeing on Seira’s face before. If she was a better fighter than he, and she was scared of something, he should be to.

But fear was unbecoming a true adventurer. If the enemy caught them, he’d fight without hesitation!

Before long, they hit trouble. A clearing. The forest resumed on the other side, but it was a good mile of nothing but plains as far as they could see on their left and right. They could go around, but that would take a serious time commitment, and based on Seira’s urgency, their pursuers were none too slow. Maybe faster than them, especially if they didn’t need to worry about stealth. Running across had the benefit of leaving much less behind to track. With the ground being mostly dry, their tracks would be faint and difficult to follow in the tall grass. Galen looked to Seira, surprised to find a severe strain on her face, almost like panic. She didn’t seem to be the kind to panic from what he knew of her. Looking behind, then forward to the field, he made his decision.

“Alright, here’s what--"

“Okay, we’ll--"

They’d both started giving orders at the same time. Seira narrowed her eyes, pulling Galen close. “We don’t have enough lead for you to make it across the field in time, but I’m faster. I can do it.”

Galen wavered between shocked and hurt. “So, you’re leaving me behind?”

She snorted, tapping her foot. “Technically, yes, for now, I’m leaving you behind. Listen, I don’t have time to explain everything, but this is vitally important: you don’t know me. You’ve never met a manticore. Forget the name Seira. They’re after me. All they’ll do is toss you around a little bit. They won’t stop to beat you up, or kill you, or rape you. If they’re chasing me, they won’t want to waste time like that. Got it?”

“But we’re companions, we’re not supposed to--“

“Shut up about what’s ‘supposed’ to happen! It’s not going to! If we took them on--“ Her ears twitched again. “Dangit! Out of time.” She stood up straight and shot one last leer at Galen. “No matter what. You don’t know me.”

Her legs exploded against the ground as she broke into a sprint. Galen gaped at her speed, watching her form slowly grow smaller and smaller until it melded with the treeline across the meadow. If she’d run earnestly like that before, when she was first trying to escape Galen, he didn’t know if he’d have been able to find her trail.

He’d have to pretend like he’d never seen her. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands together and closed his eyes, letting the tension of the run flee his body. His vigor restored, he turned in a slightly different direction than he’d seen Seira run, and began walking.

He got all of one step before hearing a crack and feeling something slick and thick wrap around his waist, yanking him off his feet and dragging him to the ground. Groaning, he put a hand to his forehead, but it too was wrapped up in coils and pinned to his face in an awkward fashion. He looked upwards to see who’d captured him.

Three full-sized lamia, at least eight feet tall as they stood now, towered over his body, two with their coils already around him. All three wore tight but simple cloths, one over where their snake body met their human part, and another over their breasts. Two of them had lighter skin while the third, the largest, was a shade darker than olive. He swallowed at the sight. They were clearly confident in their bodies, unashamed of how little the clothing covered, and they had plenty reason to be. Much like Seira, they were well-developed, though the middle-sized one had much smaller breasts than the other two. Galen wondered if their physique was due to training, or if monsters all had naturally appealing forms. With another look, he saw their arms and abs muscled as much as the blacksmiths back home, maybe more. These were definitely warriors, although Galen never would’ve guess lamia could move so fast and so silently. He hadn’t even heard them approach. He regretted not taking his father’s warnings about monsters as seriously.

He decided on his usual approach with strangers. “Well, hi there! I’m Ga--“

The coils on his waist tightened well beyond the point of pain, cutting Galen’s greeting off into a whimper. It felt like his hips were cracking and every inch of muscle below his waist had rebelled against him. A hundred needle strikes of pain buffeted his muscles, his attempts at worming away from the tightening coils useless. He could hear something pop and a new wave of pain crashed over him. He opened his mouth to yell, but a tail stuck the side of his face before he could manage it.

Then the pain vanished. One of the lamia had leaned over, her breasts threatening to spill out of her skimpy clothing. Galen guessed they didn’t want to wear anything restrictive with their role apparently being to hunt other monsters down.

“Where is the manticore?”

“M-manticore?”

The coils tightened again, this time enveloping his thighs and stomach as well. The pain shocked his body so hard he feared he might pass out. Even the worst injuries he’d taken back home paled in comparison. His muscles burned so hot he feared they might melt and leave him crippled. Again he tried to yell, and again he way cut off with a blow.

“Where is the manticore?”

“I haven’t seen any manticore!”

The largest seized Galen by the throat and held him up. He could now see clearly a twisted face of disgust from the largest and the two others wearing indifference. The coils around him spread again, this time swallow his chest and lower legs in their embrace of pain. He screamed freely, but found the wind stolen from him when one tail rammed into his chest. His struggles became more desperate as the coils, which would certainly killed him, grew tighter and tighter. His body knew nothing but pain. Every last nerve burned the feeling into him like he’d never know anything else again. Another scream, and another strike to his chest. He was caught between coughing and another shriek of pain.

“P-please, I d-don’t know!”

The lamia let up, sharing glances, then the two smaller ones looked up to the largest. She shot Galen a grimace, releasing her hold on his neck. The other two followed suit with their tails and Galen hit the ground, panting and sweating, grabbing at the dirt like it was his salvation. He started coughing, fighting to fill his lungs again.

“You’re lucky our prey is fast and killing humans is troublesome. If we find you again, you will die.”

Galen’s face was still in the ground, his body aching from the brief but intense torture. When the crippling pain had dulled to a buzz, he mustered the strength to push himself upright. He saw the sweat from his forehead drip down his hair. A strange, metallic taste tickled the back of his throat. He spit at the ground, not surprised to see some blood come out. Wiping his mouth, he gradually shifted his weight to his legs, making sure they could hold him before standing all the way up. While he was shaky for a few moments, his body soon got used to it and he was able to straighten back up. He stretched out his arms and neck, twisting his wrists back and forth to make sure they still worked. It seemed his body was still in one piece.

His dad had mentioned adventurers being tortured before, but stories made poor substitute for real thing. He also knew that what he’d just gone through was almost nothing. If the lamia hadn’t been in a hurry, that could’ve gone on much longer and dealt permanent damage to his body.

That was the second encounter he’d had with monsters, and the second he’d lost. He knew the odds were certainly stacked against him, but that did little to help the sting of defeat. What’s more, he didn’t know how he’d be able to meet up with Seira again or if she’d even wait up for him. Flexing his arms, he punched his fists together. Adventurers couldn’t let a couple failures get to them, and he had a manticore to check on. Drawing his sword, he pointed it to the sky, posing a moment before sheathing it again. His arms and legs still worked, so why not his determination?

He set off at a jog across the clearing, heading for the spot he’d seen Seira disappear. He didn’t know how long they’d tortured him, but it couldn’t have been more than five or ten minutes, if even that. His limbs would be remembering that pain for at least a day, though. His right leg in particular creaked on every step. He’d have to do his best to keep his eye out for Seira, as he had no idea how she planned to escape the lamia. He hoped the time he’d bought her was enough, but it was possible the lamia were just too clever.

He found his legs picking up their pace.

Remembering her comment about her wing made Galen wonder how long the lamia had been chasing her. She sure didn’t seem in a hurry to get anywhere after their fight and from the way she made it through the forest, she hadn’t been worried about being followed earlier. Regardless, when her ears picked up the lamia, she knew exactly what was going on.

Galen wished he knew where the lamia were from. For a second, he regretted not asking, then realized any sort of conversation with them probably would’ve ended in more beating. Whoever they were working for, they were at the least very impolite and at the worst ruthless and cruel.

But what did that make Seira?

“Galen!”

His sword was out in a second. At least, that’s what he intended, but he’d tried to draw it so fast it slipped out of his grip and flopped onto the ground. He snatched it up and pointed it in the direction of the voice: a dense, rustling bed of brush not twenty feet away. Seira emerged a second later, wiping leaves off her fur. That familiar long, amber hair swayed in the breeze as she walked up, unaffected by whatever she’d just been through. Her skimpy clothing--hardly more than underwear, really--had held up as well. Galen suspected it was made of something more than simple cloth.

“Seira! How’d you get away?” Galen sheathed his sword, careful not to lose his grip.

“There’s a small river a mile or so west of here. Once I hit that, I flew downwind and perched in a tree.” She unfurled her injured wing. The gash had grown from when Galen last saw it and the paste was beginning to fall off. “It hurt like trying to crap out a sandworm and I almost thought I wouldn’t be able to make it, but it worked out in the end. I watched them hit the end of the trail then head downstream. Once they hit the ocean, they’ll probably come back and try to pick up our trail, but we’ve got at least another day out of it.” She smiled at Galen. “I see they didn’t do any permanent damage.”

“I thought they would.” Galen shrugged off the memory, flexing his arm for Seira. “But I’m made of sterner stuff! And we can make it to Silere safely now. One thing, though.” Seira crossed her arms, watching as Galen approached her. He pulled the sword scabbard off his belt and bopped Seira in the head. “No more splitting up! Companions always watch each others’ backs!”

She rubbed the afflicted spot with a paw, narrowing her eyes at Galen. “We’ll split up if we need to. You seriously need to get that idea out of your head that there’s some ‘proper’ way to do everything. You adapt to the situation. That’s how you stay alive, or, in your case, un-raped.”

“Yeah, I have you to thank for that last part, don’t I?” He tried to grumble at her and stay mad at her for running off, but he could hold a grudge as well as a he could a handful of sand. He leapt forward and embraced Seira, squeezing her and smiling until she pried him off.

“Hey! Paws off. We’re just together until my wings heal.” 

“’Paws’ off?” said Galen, grinning. “Isn’t that my line?”

Her expression flattened, trying to wear down Galen’s grin, but Galen was far too giddy for her ill humor.

“And here I thought I’d be glad to see you again.”

“But Seira, I’ve called you my companion twice now and you haven’t corrected me.” He turned west, not waiting for her reaction, and started off on his bouncy little walk, humming to himself along the way. He’d take the victories where he could get them. He heard a grumble and footsteps follow shortly after. Yup, definitely companion.

The two followed the path Seira had left behind until they hit the river. Galen stopped to refill his waterskin and Seira took a drink herself. They didn’t stay long, though, just to be safe. Once across, they moved as quickly as possible without leaving much behind. Instead of going through brush and the weaker lower branches, they went around. Galen wished he could do something about the large paw prints Seira was leaving behind, but besides scattering dead leaves and branches over it, there wasn’t anything to be done. Hopefully it would rain before the lamia came back.

They pushed as far as they could into the night, stopping only when Galen could hardly see his hand in front of his face. A fully-fledged fire was out-of-the-question with the lamia still looking for them, but Galen was pleased to find his mother had packed a small wax candle with everything else. It was perfect for what they needed. It took some time to get even a small flame with the limited visibility, but a small flame was all Galen needed. Seira watched the entire time, though Galen couldn’t tell what her faced looked like, whether curious or impassive.

When the candle finally lit, he let out a small victory whoop and quickly dug into his pack for dinner. Almost on queue, his stomach rumbled. He withdrew a large glass container, hoping it might have his meals in it, but when he held it up to the light, he found whatever it held was long past edible. Bits of… stuff floated around in a strange, red substance. It was much more like a red paste than any sort of food.

“Aw, man. The seal must’ve been bad and let seawater in on my way here.” He tapped the jar. The container itself looked good, but the metal top looked hastily made. “Oh well. I’ll have to find something tomorrow.” He cracked open the container and poured out all the red goop. At least it didn’t smell terrible.

“Eugh,” said Seira, watching Galen pat the goop out onto the ground. “Tough luck.”

Galen couldn’t complain with everything else his mom had thought of. She’d included paper and charcoal, which Seira had already used to make a simple map. There was also the candle, the waterskin, a few herbs, a roll of twine and some flint. He’d slept on an empty stomach before, punishment for misbehaving. Doing so again wouldn’t be the end of the world.

Finished inspecting his pack, he held out the candle to Seira. The moment he held it up to her, it illuminated her face perfectly. With the shadows stripped away, she looked… content. Her smooth cheeks, unblemished by scar or sore, glinted in the light. The flame flickered in her eyes as she stared at Galen. He felt their gaze search deep into his eyes, much further than he was sure he was comfortable. “Need it for anything?”

“No, I’m fine.” He voice had evened out as well. Galen imagined there must be a lot on her mind.

“Alright.” He blew on the candle and again they were bathed in night. Her face remained the same until the light disappeared. 

He found a thick tree trunk to sleep up against, expecting Seira to do the same, but she instead climbed straight up to the lowest branch which would support her weight and made herself comfortable there.

“Wow. Isn’t that dangerous?” said Galen.

“Compared to most everything else I do? Not really. Besides, you get a much better breeze up here.”

Galen adjusted himself until comfortable. He could hear Seira doing the same. With the day’s journey over, he let himself relax, the cicadas almost drowning out his thoughts. He used come out to the forest behind his house every now and then to enjoy the atmosphere, but out here, with home so far away, it felt completely different. He couldn’t decide if it was better or not.

“Oh, by the way, I had a question earlier that was interrupted by our pursuers,” said Seira.

“Hmm?”

“You seem sure you’ll find Toneruth when we make it to Silere. Why is that?”

Galen closed his eyes, smiling to himself. “You’ll see.”

**Chapter 4**

Galen’s nose twitched. It had started itching for some reason. Mumbling, Galen shifted his position, hoping it was just the wind bugging him. The itch returned. Something fuzzy was scraping against it, teasing little strokes that disappeared the moment he swiped at them. Again he turned his head, trying to get comfortable and go back to sleep, but he wasn’t to have his rest. The tickling returned, no matter how much he swiped or scratched. With a groan, he finally opened his eyes and lifted his head from the tree he’d been sleeping against.

Crouching down in front of him was Seira, smiling. When she saw him open his eyes, she lifted a paw, opening and closing it, showing off her fluffy fur and soft pads.

Galen couldn’t find it in him to do anything but smile. He only wished he’d been able to do it first.

“You’re a heavy sleeper. I was able to crawl down here and walk around without waking you up. It even took a while with the nose to do it.” She flicked at her own nose, smile widening. “I could’ve done just about anything I wanted to while you were like that.”

Blushing, Galen stood up, checking the sun. It wasn’t much past dawn. He would’ve gotten up on his own soon, anyways. No real sleep lost.

The morning air nipped at him, but he enjoyed it like that. He glanced back at Seira, making note of her leg and arm fur. It was probably useful during mornings and evenings, especially with how little she wore. The lingering scent of maple filled his nostrils as he took a deep breath, letting the morning air of the new day invigorate him. Today they would make it to Silere and he would be the one to find the lost Toneruth! He jogged in place to loosen up his muscles then started stretching.

“Is this your routine?” said Seira, walking up from behind him.

“Yup! Gotta have a good morning routine so you know the day’s gonna go well! I always make sure to wake my body up before doing any heavy work, get those muscles stretched so I’m not sore the day after.” He took a few hops, controlling his breath as he went up and down.

“I forget how fragile human bodies are sometimes. Monsters are naturally athletic, though exercise certainly doesn’t hurt.” She put her paws on her hips, smirking as she leaned in toward Galen. “You’re not one of those goodie-goodies that does everything mom says, are you?”

“I sure am!”

Seira raised an eyebrow, the smirk turning into a curious simper. “No shame?”

“My mom’s always known what’s best for me. Why wouldn’t I do what she says? I’m pretty happy with how I’ve turned out. I’m about to be a great adventurer, after all.” Striking his fists together, Galen ended his morning routine. “Alright! West we go to Silere!”

The time passed mostly in silence. Galen kept an eye out for food--any edible berry or plant--letting a out a sharp exaltation whenever he spotted something. Eventually he had collected enough for a couple days. Though they may have had a lead on the lamia, smoke would pinpoint their location and likely give away their destination as well, meaning cooking meat was out of the question. Still, Galen enjoyed watching the forest wildlife, occasionally spotting a bird or rabbit and pausing to observe for a moment before moving on. He hummed a tune to himself, something his father often did while splitting wood in their yard. He wondered what his dad would say about his traveling with a monster. One that attacked him when they first met, too. 

Seira kept a few paces back from, always watching him. Each time Galen turned around, he caught a hint of a smile on her face. He was a bit curious as to what she was watching him for, but content to leave the question unspoken. 

He found himself more curious about who she was. After the lamia attack, he half-expected her to explain everything. Maybe she was a criminal before they met and the lamia were law enforcement. Maybe she was a rogue who broke a contract and her employers were looking for compensation. Galen liked to imagine she had dark secrets and mysterious powers which she would reveal, leaving him in awe. His realistic side told him things were likely simpler, that she had gotten on the wrong side of the wrong person. Or monster. Whatever secrets she did or didn’t have didn’t bother him, though. They were companions after all. She’d tell him if she wanted to.

“I had you figured for the more talkative type,” said Seira, emerging at Galen’s side.

“I’ve got plenty to talk about if you want to hear it!” he said with a grin.

“That’s alright. I wasn’t asking for it.”

Galen poked her in the shoulder. “Then you talk.”

“Are you sure you want to hear about me? It may not be as interesting as you think.”

“Yup!”

“What do you want to know, then?”

“Hmmm.” Galen tapped his chin. “What’s your favorite hobby?”

“Manticores don’t really have hobbies.”

“Ah, but I didn’t ask about manticores. I asked about you.”

She shot him a flat look, but he fought right back with a smile. She shrugged. “Fine. I enjoy fighting and sparring. Sometimes I’ll head out and look for the strongest monster I can find, then challenge them. Manticores are aggressive monsters, so we like to get our paws dirty, some more than others.”

“What do you like to do that other manticores wouldn’t?”

“Are you trying to be obnoxious?”

“Nope!” Galen skipped ahead, swinging out his arms. “You wanted to talk, so we’re talking. And I’m curious.”

Seira crossed her arms. “I never said I wanted to talk.”

“My dad had a word for when people do something like you’re doing. What was it?” Galen tapped his head, thinking back to the island. “Oh yeah! Skirting. You’re avoiding something because you don’t like it or you’re afraid of it.”

“I didn’t say--“

“It’s fine, you know. You’re my companion. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about something. I won’t hold it against you.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but Galen had already bounded ahead, shouting. “Look! Silere! We’re here!”

Sure enough, the trees thinned to almost nothing, revealing the crumbled ruins of what was once a small, yet bustling village. Moss and vines had taken over everything, the only real sign of a town once existing the piles of rocks and withered wood that were once dwellings. The grass grew tall and wild, hiding much of the smaller bits of rubble. Had they not been expecting to find Silere there, they might have passed through it as nothing more than another field. Seira caught up to Galen at one of the larger ruins, what might have at one time been a town hall. He was crouched over, inspecting one of the smaller rocks as if it might tell him more about the ruins. Seira stood in silence, though Galen could feel her eyes on him again, watching for his reaction. As he stood, the wind picked up, tossing Seira’s hair and braid about and rustling through her fur in waves.

He showed her the rock. “Lizardman.”

“Huh?” She looked between the rock and Galen, trying to figure out what he meant.

“That’s the secret, the thing I know. Look for something with a lizardman on it. That should lead us to Toneruth.”

She glanced over to the pile of rubble before them. “That’s a lot of rocks to be turning over. And how do you know these lizardman symbols haven’t been scraped away or lost? It’s been over four hundred years, you know.”

“Magic. My father told me the secret room where Toneruth is held was created with and sealed with magic. Meaning, anything associated with it would almost certainly be immune to wear.”

Stretching her arms, Seira stood up on her tip toes and yawned. Galen looked away, blushing. She looked kind of cute when stretched out like that.

“I’ll take that pile over there,” she said.

The two got to it. Galen carefully removed each rock in turn, inspecting it, and made a separate pile of rocks he’d checked. Most were small enough to pick up with one hand, but some of the larger ones took serious effort. He checked on Seira, gaping when he saw her method. She’d look at the rocks just like Galen did, but once she determined there wasn’t a lizardman on it, she’d just toss it over her shoulder, using that crazy manticore strength of hers. It reminded him of how she moved through the forest earlier, destroying everything in her way. Galen hoped those discarded rocks weren’t getting mixed with other rocks they’d need to check later.

The work was repetitive and exhausting, but Galen found a calming enjoyment in it. It’d been a few days since he’d been able to get in a good, honest day’s work. While he’d hardly been resting the past couple days, it felt satisfying to use his own two hands like this, especially knowing the reward. When his mind went to Toneruth and the concept of actually acquiring it and holding it in his hands, he surprised himself with his first thought. It wasn’t about recognition, or becoming a true adventurer.

He wanted strength.

The seed had been planted back when he met the Kraken. The fact that she could have so easily ended his journey right there, holding Galen to her whims--he didn’t want to be in that position ever again. It happened again when Seira had downed him with a kick and mounted him, showing how weak he was even when he had his sword and a chance at a true battle. The worst, though, were the lamia. Beaten, crushed, insulted and nearly killed simply because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He hadn’t even heard them approach him before he was coiled up in their tails.

Galen’s knuckles turned white with the strength he held the rock in his hand. He wouldn’t be that powerless little human, not again. He would find Toneruth. Then he’d be strong. Only then could he continue his adventure. 

His enthusiasm was getting away from him again, he knew it. He placed the rock in the pile with the other’s he’d looked at, releasing a long breath as he did so. Now wasn’t the time to get worked up, he had a job to do. Seira was helping him, too. He didn’t want to be a slacker and let her do all the work. Punching his fists together, he got back to it.

They worked through the rest of the day, stopping on occasion to rest, drink, and eat. Galen liked to call out to Seira and see if she found anything, only to get a “Not yet” back. He’d been hoping to get more of a rise from her, but she was too focused on the task at hand, somehow more than Galen. Seira searched through a few minor dwellings while the larger ruin took Galen almost the entire day to search. As the sun began to kiss the horizon, Galen started worrying about what would come next if they searched all the visible ruins and still found nothing. It would take days, maybe weeks of digging to find the rest of the burned-down structures, not to mention the lamia would probably find them by then.

But now was not the time for despair. He’d come to that hurdle when they reached it.

“I like to study how humans and monsters interact.”

“What?” said Galen, raising his head from his search.

“You asked earlier what I like to do that other manticores wouldn’t. I like to watch towns and cities and see how things function. How people and monsters function. Sometimes I’ll bump into a monster who has taken a husband out in the wild and learn from them as well.” 

“That’s pretty neat. I hope I get the chance to learn a lot about that too on my adventure.” He wiped the dust and sweat off his face, smiling as much as he could despite the fatigue. “Do you think you’d be able to help me with that?”

She paused, setting down the rock she’d been inspecting. For a while, Galen was worried her answer might be no and he’d offended her somehow. It seemed like a simple question to him, but it obviously meant more to her. He started getting up to walk over to her when she spoke.

“Alright. I can do that.”

He pumped a fist. “Great! How about we start now?”

“Sure, why not?”

“Why did you not want to rape me when we first met?”

“Again with that?”

“I’m just curious.”

She stared at him a moment, then waved him over. Galen leapt up and jogged to Seira, wondering why she wanted him to come.

“Take a seat.”

Galen sat cross-legged, squeezing his ankles in glee. “Oooh, is it story time?”

“What? No. No story time. I just need to see your face to answer you properly.”

“Okay.”

“As you have learned, monsters enjoy human semen. There are some very rare monsters who aren’t interested or don’t include it in their diet, but we can ignore those for now. Manticores,” she said, placing a paw on her chest, “are generally regarded as aggressive monsters who would sooner tackle a male, milk him, then either leave him to look after himself or take him away, depending on how much they enjoyed him. But there’s more to it than just the milking. Well, to be honest, to most manticores, that’s really all they care about when it comes down to it. Anyways, when I’m looking for a meal, I’m not just looking to swoop down, eat, and leave. That’s boring, and honestly the look of a guy just looking to get off is nauseating. There’s no fight to it, no thrill.” She scooted closer to Galen, pointing at her face. “Now look here. What do you see?”

“Your face?”

“Yes, my face. But what does it tell you?”

Galen scrunched up his lips, scrutinizing Seira’s face. Her lips were straight, eyes open yet dulled. Her cheeks were smooth and un-dimpled, eyebrows leveled. She had quite an attractive face, now that he got a good look at it. Feminine, but not exactly gentle. Her eyes… wait, they weren’t dull any more. She’d closed them a little and her eyebrows were slanting downward a bit. The her lips widened, spreading across her face, dimpling her cheeks as the edges curled upward. Her nostrils flared out and her nose started to wrinkle as her eyebrows continued to slant. Her face was moving closer, too. Galen gulped, leaving his mouth hung open slightly. His breaths grew heavier, but he couldn’t tell why. When Seira breathed out, he could feel it splash against his face and enter his mouth and nose like an intoxicating smoke.

When her paw touched his knee, he jumped back, yelping in surprise. When he got his balance again, he found her tail hovering in front of him, dripping as it opened. He could feel his face making those subtle changes like hers did. His mouth slipped into a gaping, aghast frown that bunched up his chin and wrinkled his cheeks, his brows turned upward, and his eyes opened wide at the sight in front of him.

“When I hunt, I want to see recognition. I want someone who knows all that can happen to them and their face to animate when their eyes land on me. I want to twist that horror into desire and pleasure. But it all starts with fear, Galen. The exact sort that was just on your face.”

Galen turned to Seira, now on all fours. The atmosphere around her… it was nothing like he’d felt before. Her eyes had darkened and that smile of hers had widened, but at the same time twisted with wanton desire. Galen scrambled away from her on his rear, scooting as fast as he could. She crawled toward him with such liquid-smooth movements she appeared to float, keeping up with Galen despite how quickly he moved. His eyes flashed to his sword, but he didn’t really want to harm her, he just wanted her to stop. One of his hands slipped on the slick grass, almost allowing her to overtake him, but with a warning kick he placed just enough distance between them to allow him to breathe.

“A-are you feeling okay?”

“Okay? I’m feeling wonderful.” Her tongue slipped out of her mouth, running slowly across her lips, never moving her eyes from Galen’s.

Something was wrong. Something had to be wrong. “W-why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

She juked forward, startling Galen in to backing up again, grin growing upon seeing his reaction. “But this isn’t sudden at all. I’ve always been like this toward those I see as a meal. Remember when we met?”

“I remember you having no interest in raping me, and I’d kind of grown accustomed to that!” He cautiously took his feet underneath him to get up, a razor-sharp stare locked on Seira, watching for the slightest movements. “Why am I a meal, then?”

“You’re slow about some things, aren’t you?”

“Hey, I’m perfectly--“

Seira bounded forward, scaring Galen into a backward leap. His feet still weren’t in the right position, however, so it didn’t get him near as far as he wanted. His feet hit the ground while his momentum was still carrying him backward, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the ground. Seira had already begun to close in. Yelping, Galen started scooting backward again. His back slammed into a tree, dazing him. Even as he recovered, he knew it was over. The tree had sealed his fate. That one slip-up, that was all Seira needed. She’d probably been teasing and coaxing him into it the whole time.

Nevertheless, he tried to get up. A paw slammed into his chest, pushing him back into the tree when he was only halfway up. The pressure she was able to apply with just one paw was incredible. If she wanted, Galen felt like she could crush his lungs. The paw dragged him all the way up till his feet were dangling a couple inches off the ground. Seira’s wings unfurled as she inspected her prey, burning that zealous, flirty smile into Galen’s memory. The way her eyes angled and those lips curled up just enough, it was as if she was showing concern for a meal right before devouring it. He could see her arm muscles flex, but from her stance and attitude, she acted as if holding him there didn’t require the slightest effort from her. A single claw extended, playing across Galen’s cheek.

He swallowed, trying to push away from the claw. His fingers twitched, but he could decide whether or not to reach for his sword or the arm holding him up. A glance downward betrayed his intentions.

“Look at you, still thinking you can escape, still thinking there’s a way out of it. Go on. Reach for your sword. Try it.”

“S-Seira, I don’t really want t-to hurt--“

“Do it,” she hissed.

With a gulp, he looked back and forth between his sword and Seira, silently pleading with his face, but her own never wavered. He’d have to try.

In flash, his right hand was on the hilt, drawing the sword free. Before he’d even got it halfway, her paw ripped through the air, smacking his hand free. A second later he heard a thunk and a rattle. The sword had been thrown with the force to imbed it in a nearby tree. With that option gone, he went for Seira’s paw to try and pry it off, but she snatched both his wrists quick as lighting in her other paw and slammed them into the tree above his head. In a matter of seconds, she had rendered him immobile and unable to fight and done it effortlessly.

“Fu fu, look at you, hanging from the tree like that. Are you sure you tried to fight back? It was awfully easy to get you there.”

Galen squirmed under her grip, but her strength held him in place easily. His chest rose and fell rapidly, breaths growing frantic. The paw on his chest loosened up just enough to let his feet touch the ground, and as soon as they did, he threw a kick straight for her groin. One of her foot-paws caught the blow, grabbing his foot and slamming it into the ground next to his other foot. As his struggles weakened, he realized he had never stood a chance from the moment she laid eyes on him. He was utterly and completely helpless. Seira had only ever been toying with him.

“C’mon, S-Seira, I think that’s far enough n-now.”

“Far enough?” The paw on his chest slipped up just high enough for her to wrap a digit around his neck. “But I haven’t even started. You’ll like it once I start.”

Galen got an idea. He stopped his struggles and relaxed. “Oh, yeah, okay. I’ve always wanted to know how this went anyways. Go ahead.”

“Are you trying to act like you did before? Ruin my appetite? If you wanted that to work, you never should have shown me that face of yours.” She moved her face closer, close enough for Galen to taste her breath on his quivering smile. “Sweating, shaking, that unmistakable reflection of fear in your eye, and the best part?” She moved to his ear, whispering her next words. “The anticipation.” Her paw left his chest, but the ones on his wrists and feet still held him in place. She reached under his shirt, groping at his chest and bringing his shirt up to expose him. She took it up over his head and left it holding his arms together. Galen shivered as she blew on his neck, then bit lightly where his goosebumps popped up.

“Seira…”

Ignoring him, she slid her paw back down his chest, seizing his pants and yanking them downward. His erection throbbed freely in the evening air, declaring his arousal for Seira to see.

“Hora, hora, look at you. It was all just an act, wasn’t it?” She stepped forward, his leg now captured between her thighs and her breasts embracing his side. With an easy motion of her hips, she began grinding into him, forcing his erection harder and higher with each movement. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, all men like it.”

“B-b-b-b-bu--“ Galen gasped, unable to even get the word out.

She bit his shoulder, silencing him. Her teeth didn’t dig in enough for it to truly hurt, but she left a mark after moving away. “I won’t keep you waiting. I know what you want.” From behind her back, her tail emerged, hovering back and forth like a snake.

Galen’s eyes widened so far he feared they would fall out. That tail, the dripping, twitching, soft pink cavern of pleasure just waiting for him was the same he’d seen with fear in his eyes the first time. Its spines flicked out, then slowly retracted before flicking out again. Seira ran her paw digits over her tail as if it was some pet she was about to sic on its prey. With a swipe of her claw, she collected some of the goo dripping from her tail, rubbing it between two digits. She turned to Galen, showing off the substance as her tail moved in. It seemed to take forever, slithering through the air, closer and closer to Galen’s tip until it was mere inches away. His heart beat so hard in his chest he thought it might explode. This was it. It was actually going to happen! One last time, he fought against Seira’s strength, even knowing it was futile.

“I love that look of yours.” Her half-lidded eyes watched only his face, her soft smirk showing she was only all too pleased with his reaction.

And then it was on him.

Seira, not a manticore of subtlety, swallowed Galen’s entire member with one thrust of her tail. The wet, soft walls immediately seized Galen, balls, shaft and tip, and began sucking. It felt like a cavern of a thousand tiny, delicate fingers massaging him, dedicated to making him come as fast as possible. His entire body stiffened, such pleasures he’d never known wreaking his body without remorse. He started thrusting into her tail, completely unable to hold himself back.

“They usually last a little longer before they start doing that,” said Seira, running her paw up his chest, letting her claws dig into his skin ever so lightly. “But I don’t blame you.”

Galen writhed in pleasure under her grip, wishing there was some way to thrust deeper into that tail, to feel more of it with greater intensity. Seira showed no mercy, her tail sucking as hard as it could, pulses of pressure running up and down Galen’s member as it worked. This was true helplessness. Seira held even Galen’s will according to her whims. He would come if she wanted him to. He would thrust if she wanted him to. He would stand there and accept her rapturous torture, or play like he never wanted to feel her tail, whatever she wanted.

Grinding her chest against his, she nipped at his neck, a little harder this time, playing her tongue against his skin. Galen wanted to embrace her, to grab that tail and force it harder onto his cock, to play with the ample breasts pressed against his chest, a hundred different things with his hands, but she kept them imprisoned, gleeful at demonstrating his powerlessness. Her tail tightened further, the fleshy barbs caressing his member along every inch. He couldn’t take it any more. Yelling out to the sky, Galen gave a heavy thrust forward, pleasure exploding along his shaft as he surged into that wondrous tail. True to its purpose, it swallowed every last drop, never slowing, taking his orgasm for everything it was worth.

Seira took in a long breath, smiling in contentment as she absorbed his release.

“Please, Seira, please, don’t,” said Galen.

“Don’t what?” She turned an ear to his mouth.

“Don’t stop.”

“Is that what you were worried about?” She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him in, crushing their bodies together. “That was never going to happen.”

Somehow, the suction on his cock increased. It had grown so powerful Galen thought Seira would suck up his entire body. He didn’t care, though. All he wanted was more. The tail bobbed up and down, at some points focusing the entirety of its attentions on his tip. After his last orgasm, he was so sensitive he almost came from that alone. When he began thrusting into her tail once again, she matched his rhythm, slamming her tail down and withdrawing it exactly how he wanted.

“Does it feel like you’re fucking a pussy? No, it probably feels much better.” The claws on the paw holding his body shot out, burrowing into his skin. He knew they’d gone deep enough to draw blood, but he simply didn’t care any more.

Her tail enveloped everything again, cradling his balls as that magnificent, terrible suction intensified. She stopped thrusting her tail, instead making the insides squirm and stroke Galen’s oversensitive member. The addition of a squeeze was too much for him. He cried out, moaning, thrusting his hips as hard as he could into the tail as a white-hot bliss shocked his body. He came so hard he thought Seira’s tail would be blasted away, but it only clung tighter to the taste of semen. Unlike the first orgasm, Galen kept spurting, his load and pace dictated by the tail. Pulses of cum traveled down Seira’s tail as it milked him over and over.

Galen had trouble keeping his eyes open. The tail had begun to suck away at his consciousness, but just as he felt darkness overtaking him, it withdrew. So did Seira’s paws, leaving Galen with nothing to hold him up. His legs collapsed like jelly and he crumpled to the ground. Panting, he stared at the ground, his mind readjusting to the fading light and cooling breeze of the evening. He swallowed, watching beads of sweat drip from his face onto the ground. 

“There, there. It was just a little milking.” Paws grasped Galen’s shoulders, helping him to his feet. Seira took one of his arms and laid it over her shoulders, allowing him to lean on her. “You know, I’m usually not so nice to my meals after a session. You should be grateful.”

Galen attempted to smile, but all he succeeded in doing was make his face twitch in a meaningless fashion. Words would have to do. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” She looked over him, then fixed his shirt and pulled his pants back up, smiling when he was properly clothed again.

They trudged back to the ruins. Seira took notice of a single structure sticking out against the rest of the ruins and figured it made a good a place as any for camp. Progress was slow with Galen trying to get feeling back in his legs, but Seira had no trouble holding his weight. Glancing over, he saw more than the usual contemplation and mischievousness in her smile. She actually seemed content. It reminded him of her face in the candlelight of the previous night.

Galen lost his footing, almost falling over as his legs turned to jelly once again, but Seira caught him. “Whoops! Take it easy now. I know I take a lot out of men after a milking.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Seira chuckled. “That’s the first time someone has apologized to me after rape.”

“But I thought it wasn’t rape if--“

She covered his mouth with a paw. “Hush. You’ll ruin it.”

He said something else, but his mouth was still covered so Seira couldn’t make it out. She shook her head, wondering if some things didn’t just go in one ear and out the other with him.

They soon made it back to the structure. It turned out to be the remains of a fireplace. Seira picked out a soft-looking spot on the grass and plopped Galen down. He groaned as his back hit the ground a bit harder than he was expecting. Arching his back, he shot Seira a stink-eye.

“You’re supposed to be gentler with someone you’re helping out.”

She shrugged, finding a nice limp of dirt to elevate her head on and leaned back onto it. “You’ll be fine.”

She expected a quip back from him, but when she heard nothing, she sat back up and looked over. He’d fallen straight to sleep. Easy to sleep, hard to wake, she guessed. She grinned, knowing exactly what had exhausted him so.

Lying down, she rested her head in her paws, letting her tail swing idly back and forth. She closed her eyes, but reopened them when she caught sight of something. It was a part of the fireplace next to where Galen was sleeping, but it caught her eye because something had been scratched into it. Squinting, she leaned toward the rock. A small lizardman stared back at her.

“Huh,” she said, lying back down. “How about that.”

**Chapter 5**

“Hey. Wake up.”

Galen blinked, focusing on the figure standing over him. Yawning, he sat up, working the kinks out of his neck. “What is it?”

“Where’s that paste you used on my wing?” Her tone was rather direct.

“Why do you want it?”

“Because you’ve got cuts on your back and I want to put the paste on them before you get infected.”

He brought his knees up and hugged them, smirking at Seira. “I wonder how they got there.”

“Do you want my help or not? It can’t be easy for you to fix up your own back.”

“Alright, alright. There should be a small brown container in my pack. It might not still be good. You’ll have to pour some water in it. If it’s still greenish, it’s fine, but if it’s red or brown it’s no good.” Galen yawned again, stretching his arms, and started shifting his weight to his legs to get up, but Seira stopped him with a paw.

“No. You don’t get up until I’m done.” She reached over to his pack, rummaging through it for the paste.

“You’re bossy this morning. Grumpy?” Galen gave her an exaggerated frown, opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“Not at all.” Her search came to a halt, her brow furrowing. For several seconds, she didn’t move a muscle.

“What is it?”

“Nothing… I think.” Her face lit up. “Ah!” She pulled out the paste, popping the wooden container open and pouring a bit of Galen’s water on it. The paste had begun to brown, but there was still a definite tint of green to it. She brought the paste over. “Shirt off and turn around.”

Galen complied, but helped himself to a quip as he did so. “Are you sure you’re not going to just give me new scratches?”

“I have every intention of giving you new scratches. Just not now.” She was hardly gentle with he application of the paste, but Galen figured her paws weren’t really made for delicacy. Still, the cool, moist substance felt good where the cuts burned into him. He let out a long sigh, looking up to the sky and greeting the sun as it greeted him. Her fur tickled him where it ran across his bare skin, making him breathe in sharply.

“You should use the rest of it on your wing when you’re done. It’ll go bad by the end of today, anyways. Might as well make use of it.”

Seira paused in her task. “Thank you.”

Galen smiled, enjoying the morning breeze as he looked out over the ruins of Silere. He thought not of the work ahead, but rather last night. Seira’s shift in personality almost like a switch had flipped in her head had caught him by surprise, but he had soon found himself enjoying it. Not just what she had done with her tail, but witnessing how she went about it. Last night she had truly been in her element, revealing to Galen a side of her beyond the analytic, almost strict Seira he’d come to know. While he still didn’t understand everything about her actions from that night, he’d learned much and was hopeful to learn more. Seira had agreed to help him, after all.

“Say, Seira, why are you doing this? Not exactly something I expected out of you after last night.”

“Because you’re no good if you drop dead from an infection. Plus, I’m the one that did this in the first place. It makes sense that I would fix it.”

He shrugged, not wanting to dig any further, but something told him there was more to it. “You ready for another day of work? I’m sure we’ll find that secret room today!”

“No need. Look to your right and down a bit.”

Galen’s gaze followed her direction. Next to him stood a fireplace, somehow still intact after so many years. His eyes slowly traced downward until…

“Woah! You found it!” He almost leapt up in excitement, but Seira’s paw darted out and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back down.

“Not done yet! Sit still.”

Galen’s face quivered, his smile threatening to burst free of the confines of his face. His muscles tensed, ready to spring forward the second Seira was finished. He’d done it! He’d found it! Well, technically it was Seira, but still! He put a hand to his chest to still his beating heart. Calm down. He had to calm down. His enthusiasm was getting the better of him again. He still needed to actually get open up the secret room. All he’d done was find it.

“Done.”

Galen exploded upward throwing his fist into the air and yelling “Ha!” He immediately began jogging in place, pumping his arms as fast as he could. After a short time of that, he moved onto stretching, his face red with effort and anticipation.

“You’re doing your morning routine now? When the thing you’re looking for is right there?” Seira said, wiping the last of the paste on her wing.

“I have to do it to have a good day! No matter what!” He hopped up and down, exhaling on each landing. Someone with no morning routine like Seira probably wouldn’t understand, but that was fine. To finish things up, he pounded his fists together, yelling, “Alllll-right!”

Rushing back over to the fireplace, he shot Seira a grin. She attempted to remain wary of his giddiness, but his spirit was too much for her and she smiled back. Galen’s hands hovered over the lizardman symbol, trying to decide what to do. Could he just press it? Was there a puzzle of some sort? Whatever. He wouldn’t get anywhere without some experimentation! He started by slamming his fist down on it, hoping it was a button. The only thing he got out of that was a sharp pain in his knuckles. Narrowing his eyes, he positioned himself to get a good hold on the rock. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed it and twisted as hard as he could.

It gave way. Galen heard a click after one full rotation and backed away, waiting.

The bottom of the fireplace groaned, shaking off centuries of ache and dust as it opened up. Galen’s eyes widened with the slow removal of the stone slab guarding his prize. Clasping his hands together, he hopped up and down, running over to Seira and hugging her tight. She gawked at the ambush, but didn’t pry him off, instead giving him a pat on the back, a silent congratulations. As soon as the sound of scraping stone ceased, Galen pulled back from the hug, seizing one of Seira’s paws and pulling her along.

“Let’s go!”

“Okay, okay. Be careful, though. We don’t know what’s down there.”

The stone slab had revealed a narrow staircase leading into darkness. Seira’s instincts told here there was more down there than shadow, but it’d been four hundred years. How could anything still be alive down there?

They both had to duck to get past the fireplace façade, but the stairwell didn’t go far, opening up to a long, decent-sized room. From the stairway to the far end of the room was probably thirty feet by Galen’s guess and less than half that between the walls on his sides. The walls, the floor, every surface was caked in dust. Galen’s throat itched as soon as he drew a breath, but he swallowed to keep it down. The light from the stairwell didn’t illuminate the place well, but it did the job. His eyes scanned the room. The walls and ceiling were plain, made of pure, smooth stone, a single slab as far as he could tell. Impossible without magic. The floor was soft, covered in a pad of some sort, completely clear but for a black shape, probably a table, near the back. Galen squinted, giving his eyes a moment to adjust. Definitely a table. Atop it sat a stand of some sort, wooden and not very tall, maybe a couple feet long with four prongs reaching out. The upper two held a black object, gently curved with the apex pointing to the sky. The way it reflected the light, Galen could tell it had once been polished under all that dust. Amazing it kept any sort of sheen after so long. One end of it was plain, but the other looked rippled and didn’t shine like the rest. He took a few cautious steps forward, releasing Seira’s hand. That almost looked like a guard. A sword guard.

The flash of recognition shook his entire body. His knee wobbled and his heart skipped a beat. Sweat poured down his neck, his breathing growing heavier with each step forward. His hand, almost afraid of what it might touch, trembled when he raised it. His fingers moved closer, closer, infinitely close, hovering a whisper above the object. Galen took a deep, slow breath, trying to calm his body. It wouldn’t do to be shaking in excitement around a blade, but he couldn’t deny himself the bulging ecstasy within. His dream, not even inches away. His hands moved to either side of the guard and closed around the object. Gently, like it could shatter into a thousand pieces with a single erroneous movement, he lifted it from its stand. The object was light for a sword and well-balanced as far as he could tell. He took a step backward and turned, allowing the light from the stairwell to wash over the precious object.

It was exactly as he thought. One of his hands was on what was unmistakably a sword hilt, woven with a fine thread, a pattern of red diamonds touching points going from the guard to the end of the hilt. On the other side of the guard, Galen held a dusty yet silk-smooth sheath. He could also tell the sword had a definite curve to it. He found it odd, but assumed it was like that for a purpose. Unable to grin through the awe, he looked to Seira. Her arms were crossed under her breasts, watching that sword as closely as Galen had been. She met his eyes with elation in her own.

Galen brought the sword up to eye level, just like all the heroes drew their swords in dad’s stories when they dueled. He gripped the hilt so hard his hand hurt, then gave the sword the tiniest pull.

The blade came free.

An inch of solid metal stared at Galen, gleaming in the light, reflecting a odd, wavy pattern on one half of the blade and a dull silver on the other. Was the blade only on one side? Keeping his eyes on the sword, he pulled the sheath away, eyes glowing in wonder as the ate up the sight. The sheath soon came free and Galen held it off to the side. Unfortunately, the act revealed something very, very wrong with the blade.

It was broken at the half-way point.

“W-w-what?” muttered Galen. This was Toneruth! The legendary blade, Scarlet Lightning! It was supposed to have carved the Scar of the World with a single strike! He turned to the sheath, flipping it upside down. The other half of the blade fell out, hitting the floor with a clang.

He looked to Seira, hoping for some kind of an answer, an explanation, but she was just as shocked as he. They exchanged glances, then looked back to the lonely sword piece on the ground.

“It’s broken? And why is it only sharp on one side? Is this some kind of trick?” He fell to his knees reaching for the broken-off half of the sword.

He had little time to lament, however. A rush of footsteps came from the stairwell, grabbing Galen’s attention. Coming down the steps was a well-built woman, a foot taller than Galen with an agile and muscular body. She wore near-skin-tight leather clothing, covering only her neck, chest, waist, and most of her legs but for her inner thighs. She also wore what looked like boots and gloves, but they only covered from the wrist or ankle upward. Her bare feet and hands were scaly and tough, much like a reptile. She leveled a stare at him, intense yet calm, yellow eyes with a black slit down the middle. Like Galen did to her, she analyzed his body, making quick mental notes as her eyes moved. Brilliant golden-brown hair covered her head, kept in a bun secured by a green ribbon matching the color of her scales and clothing. Her hands were wrapped around the hilt of a sword which looked exactly like Toneruth, only unbroken. It gleamed in the light, a terrifying presence when whole. 

Without a doubt, this was a lizardman. And if she had the unbroken blade…

“This is a fake, isn’t it? I’m taking the real one!” shouted Galen, hopping to his feet.

“Huh?” said Seira, looking back and forth between Galen and the stairs, confusion plain on her face.

The lizardman adopted a stance, holding her sword in front. “This is not the blade you are looking for, but for this fight, it is what you need.” She lunged forward. “Prepare yourself!”

Galen dropped the useless broken blade and drew his trusty longsword. He had plenty of time to see the lizardman’s attack and she made no effort to feint. He held his sword up, ready to parry and counterattack. With a shout, she struck, her sword whistling as it traveled downward.

Right through Galen’s sword.

He froze in shock, seeing death before his eyes as her strike cut clean through his chest down to his waist. His body froze up where the blow struck, turning icy and numb. Breathing became difficult, coming only in wheezes. He felt like puking, stumbling back into the table behind him. Clutching his chest, he glared at the lizardman, frustrated to lose to easily, to die so simply. His grip tightened on his sword.

“That piece of metal will never block my blade. Use the other!”

Galen’s eyes darted down to the broken Toneruth at her feet. That one was a fake, right? Why did she want him to use it? And was this fight already over? He squeezed his chest where she’d cut, realizing he didn’t feel blood. Looking down, he saw his clothes were still intact as well. The blade hadn’t touched him! But why was it so difficult to breathe? Why was his skin freezing cold?

“Galen? What’s wrong?” asked Seira.

“The cut didn’t cut!”

“What?” she asked, cocking her head.

“I will give you no more time!” yelled the lizardman, charging forward again.

Her next attack went for Galen’s head. He barely reacted in time, ducking under the strike, then turned the duck into a roll. While the roll disoriented him, I put him past the lizardman and right next to the fallen Toneruth. He grimaced at it, but picked it up anyways. He took a few steps away from his opponent before spinning around. He felt ridiculous fighting with half a sword, but if it was the only thing that could block hers, he didn’t have a choice.

“What are you doing?” asked Seira.

“What do you mean? I’m fighting the lizardman!”

“What lizardman?”

“Huh? Woah!”

Galen hollered as he jumped back, the lizardman relentless in her assault. He couldn’t afford to give Seira any attention while the battle continued. The next strike came from his side. Tightening his grip on Toneruth, he held it up to parry, hoping the lizardman wasn’t fooling with him. The clang of meeting swords gave him his answer. The force behind her attack was impressive, almost breaking Galen’s stance, but he held on. With a step forward, he shoved her sword aside and leaned in for an attack of his own. The swing was awkward, given the sword didn’t have as much weight as Galen was used to, and completely failed at connecting, the blade whiffing by a few inches. Now recovering from his swing and well within the lizardman’s guard, he expected a knee or punch to his face, but she instead tried to attack with her sword again. She had to shift her grip and build momentum for the swing, giving Galen just enough time to dance back out of the way.

Bringing up his default stance again, Galen walked to the side, trying to figure out what she was aiming to do. Whatever sword she was using could only be blocked by Toneruth--something she personally told him--and it couldn’t actually cut him, only weaken where it struck his body. In addition, she had a perfect chance to hit him with a kick or punch, but instead used her sword. Maybe she can’t for whatever reason, or maybe she’s only interested in swordplay.

She took a sharp step forward, pulling her sword back for a diagonal strike downward and Galen immediately moved Toneruth to block, but the movement was a feint. With a flick of her wrists, her sword tip dipped downward and the attack came from below. Galen tried to jump backward to avoid it, but he didn’t have the proper balance after moving to block. Her sword caught his chin and nose, numbing them instantly. The room seemed to waver as his sense of smell was robbed from him. He was surprised how significant his nose had been. He’d always through it fighting was all about vision and hearing.

This fight was not his to win, Galen realized. The lizardman had more strength and endurance than him, both from the fact she was monster, not human, and that she had trained her body for physical exertion. Her frame and muscles made that much obvious. He’d have to try something risky. He turned his body to face the lizardman, chest forward instead of toward the side. He held Toneruth diagonally across his chest, out in front of his body. His father had told him of a technique one of the adventurers in his stories used to use. By presenting the chest, it gave the enemy a tempting target. Usually enemies would go after the heart, which is what Galen was hoping.

“After a few clashes, your posture is already falling apart? This will not do.” The lizardman pulled her sword back, directing the tip at Galen. Exactly what he wanted. His technique was mostly useless against slashing attacks, but a piercing strike or stab would fall right into his trap.

He clamped his mouth shut, his jaw tight and stance rigid. He could feel the sweat pouring down his face as he stared at that sword. He had to know exactly where it was.

Her body exploded into action, sending her sword tip right where Galen wanted it. Had they not been standing so far away, his reaction would have been too slow, but he caught her strike just in time. He swatted at her blade with Toneruth, catching it as it moved forward. His left hand slipped up his blade and pushed against the flat of hers, nudging the stab to the left while he stepped forward with his right foot. In his right hand, he kept Toneruth, jabbing it forward as he stepped. Her attack went wide, missing his shoulder by less than an inch. Meanwhile, his sword darted forward to her exposed chest. Exhilaration washed over him as he watched his blade move closer and closer. He’d done it!

Everything came to a halt just before he connected. Her left hand had left her blade at the last second, seizing Galen’s wrist and holding it in place. Grunting, he tried to yank his hand away, frustrated with her for stealing his victory, but he couldn’t budge. She was far too strong.

“This is adequate,” she said, withdrawing her blade and tossing Galen’s wrist to the side. Her stance relaxed and she sheathed her sword. “I can work with you.”

“Huh?” His hands dropped to his sides. She’d just been testing him?

“Whether or not you have the intelligence to master the blade remains to be seen, but you have the requirements.”

“What just happened?” he asked.

“That’s my question!” said Seira, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around to face her. “What the heck were you doing?”

“The lizardman fought me.” He pointed a thumb at the subject of attention.

“There’s no one there! You’ve been fighting an invisible lizardman!”

The lizardman coughed, getting Galen’s attention. “Have her touch the hilt. It will explain things.”

He shrugged, offering the hilt of Toneruth to Seira. “Here, she says touch this.”

Seira looked at Galen like he might be crazy, but gripped the hilt anyways. Her paw snapped back a second after contact and she yelped, shaking her paw and blowing on it. “Sweet mother of monkeys that thing’s hot! How are you holding it?”

He looked at the blade, testing the temperature in different spots. “Doesn’t feel hot to me.”

“It will feel that way to any monster,” said the lizardman, stepping forward.

“Woah,” said Seira, eyes widening for a second as she looked over the lizardman. “So you’re the lizardman Galen was just fighting? How come I didn’t see you?”

The lizardman looked back and forth between Seira and Galen. “There is much I must explain. Let us go outside and sit where it’s comfortable.”

Seira and the lizardman ascended the stairs. Galen collected his old sword, the broken-off tip of Toneruth, and its sheath and followed after his companions. He had a hundred questions running through his head and hoped every one of them had an answer. His mood was wedged between excited and saddened; excited from the discovery of Toneruth and the following battle, but saddened the blade had been broken. Hopefully the lizardman could tell him how to fix it.

The outside air hit him with a strong wind as he emerged. He felt the dust he’d collected in that dingy room blowing off of him. The air out here was heavenly compared to down there. He found he could smell again as well, the scent of grass and sweat filling his nose. Seira was leaning up against the fireplace remains while the lizardman sat cross-legged a short distance away.

“You okay?” asked Seira.

“Yeah, I’m fine. A little overwhelmed, that’s all.”

She nodded in reply. Galen stepped by Seira, taking a seat in front of the lizardman, laying the sheathed Toneruth out in front of him. She didn’t seem too concerned with much of anything at the moment, looking at Galen and the sword with passivity. Her posture presented her as a proper monster, back straight, arms resting on her knees, head held up and chin level.

“You may want to sit. This could take time,” she said to Seira.

“I’m fine where I am, thanks.”

Galen asked the first thing that came to mind.

“Is this the real Toneruth?”

“The sword before you was the very one used by the well-known man Solvet to rend the earth and kill the monster lord Suusuub II during the reign of King Aegin over four hundred years ago. It was forged under the name ‘Tellus’, though as you have called it Toneruth I would assume it has earned a different name.” Her reply was spoken without emotion or bias, plain but not disinterested.

Galen exhaled slowly. So this was the very weapon he had been searching for, and it was indeed broken. He knew he shouldn’t focus on the negatives, but how instead to overcome them.

“Why is it broken?”

“The magic that makes it powerful also has drawbacks. The blade itself is fragile in comparison to others, and without a strong will to carry it in battle, it may break when used. I was not present for the breaking, but had Solvet used it in any fight after destroying Suusuub, the risk of breaking would have been high.”

Seira added her own question. “Saying you weren’t present during the breaking implies you were at some other point back then. Is that true?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?” asked Galen.

The lizardman’s mouth curled into a frown. “That is not so simply answered. Would you like to know how many years it has been since my day of birth, or how long I have been living?”

“Uhh.” Galen scratched his head. “I guess both?”

“It has been 1382 years since my date of birth. I have been alive for 1005.”

“Geez!” said Galen, snapping his head back. “I didn’t know monsters lived that long!”

“We don’t,” said Seira. “Even the oldest monsters don’t live for more than a thousand years, and lizardmen are not among the longest-living monsters.”

“Correct. We usually live to around 500 years, no longer than 600.”

“Wow! And humans only live for like eighty! That’s amazing you live so long.” He turned to Seira. “So how old do manitcores get?”

“Depends. If we’re active without over-exerting ourselves and we feed regularly, we can get up close to 600. Not much different than lizardmen.”

“Well then you should stop over-exerting yourself with all this running!”

“Aww, how cute that you’re concerned for me. But I wouldn’t want to live a boring life like that.”

“How old are you now?”

She smirked. “I thought it was rude among humans to ask that.”

“W-well, I guess.” Galen felt his cheeks burn red.

“Good thing I’m a monster and I don’t care about that. I’m 115 years old.”

Galen turned back to the lizardman, smiling. “This is cool! I’m surrounded by really old and wise monsters!”

With a swift, smooth strike, Seira backhanded Galen in the head, causing him to yelp and rub his head where it was hit.

“I said you could ask my age, not call me old.”

“You’re no fun,” he grumbled, then turned back to the lizardman. “So how are you so old?”

“That is best answered if I tell you my story.” She put a hand to her chest, closing her eyes and exhaling almost like she was meditating. “My name is Sybyll. For the first 252 years of my life, I was unextraordinary, if a bit rebellious. I had something of a natural talent for learning the art of swordplay, but was too concerned with brawling and other reckless activities to set aside the time to learn it in earnest. My peers would often defeat me in duels, though I was not without my own victories. My style was unorthodox, crude, and often ineffective against a trained swordsman, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

“After those 252 years, however, a blacksmith, a human mage, and a succubus mage visited the village my particular tribe of lizardmen called home. The three had a decree from both the king and the ruling monster lord at the time giving them absolute authority in their mission. They did not outright state their mission, but instead called upon our village to host a tournament. We are all too willing to accommodate, as we reveled in any chance to display our fighting prowess. It was not my wish at the time to join the tournament, as I preferred less-structured fights, but was compelled to by the village leadership. All in all, nearly 200 lizardmen participated. Every single match was observed by the three travelers.

“My matches were nothing of note in the grand scheme of the tournament. I lost my fourth fight to someone who lost in the next round, so there was little to be proud of in my performance. As I walked away from my final match, defeated, I caught the eyes of the visitors. All three were watching me, not the victor, as I left the field. I remember curiosity, resignation, and hope in those stares. The blacksmith in particular bled a certain flavor of pity. It made my stomach churn.

“The tournament went on as expected and the visitors gave the winner a prize of considerable worth. I do not remember what it was, as I had endeavored to forget the ordeal altogether. They then departed, and were not seen from again for another two months. But they did return.”

Sybyll opened her eyes, flashing grave anguish at Galen. “I perhaps should have been more wary of them, for on their return, they asked to see me. They told me the true purpose of their visit had not been to crown a winner, but to find a suitable candidate. They had traveled to all the known dwellings of lizardmen and held a tournament, observing every participant for the necessary qualifications. After their journey, they had decided on me.

“They explained they were forging a blade, one to maintain the balance of power between human and monster. A war between the two had recently ended, nearly resulting in the utter defeat of man. Only with the power of magic borrowed from the succubi did the humans manage to hold their own, and even then just barely. The monster lord had recognized how important it was for humans to be able to live, as without males, monsters would never reproduce. The aggressive nature of many monsters, if left unchecked, could lead to an eventual extinction of humans. The king and monster lord both feared that one day, a monster lord would come to power with the capability and the desire to ravage the land of humans, regardless of the consequences.

“So they commissioned a blade. One with terrifying power that could only be used by humans. They found the greatest blacksmith in the land, took their two most powerful mages--one human and one monster--and tasked them with creating such a weapon. To give the weapon the power they wished, they needed to bind a soul to it. They wanted a lizardman, as their race was know for both their combat prowess and integrity. This soul would also serve as a safeguard, as without the cooperation of the soul, the wielder would never be able to bring out the blade’s full power. In short, they wanted someone they could trust.

“That soul was me.

“I gave them my soul, they gave me ageless life, and they gave the world Tellus.”

**Chapter 6**

Drifting across the sky, the sun looked down on the trio of travelers. Galen and Sybyll remained sitting while they chatted and Seira paced back and forth. As involved as Galen was in the conversation, he could sense Seira’s restlessness behind him and hear her paws stepping through the long grass. He wanted to ask her what was on her mind, but felt if it was important enough she’d come forward with it on her own. In the meantime, there was still much for him to learn from Sybyll about Toneruth.

Not forgetting his manners, Galen introduced himself and Seira before inquiring further. He was ‘an adventurer from Nox’ and Seira was ‘a curious but strict manticore on the run’. Sybyll had taken it all in, those piecing eyes of her never losing their edge. He had a ton of questions about Sybyll’s past, like the name of her village, where it was, if she’d gotten good at swordfighting and what her hobbies were. At the last question, she merely raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t have hobbies?” asked Galen.

“Not anymore, not particularly. I’m bound to the sword. My ‘hobby’ is training the wielder.”

“So that’s what that fight was? Training?”

“Of a sort. I was assessing not only your skills, but your knowledge and personality as well. Much is brought out of a person or monster when unexpected combat is thrust upon them.”

Galen rested his head on his hand. “Do you always greet people like that? Because if you do, going to cities is going to be a real hassle.”

“No. It would be difficult for me to fight someone not wielding Tellus anyways.”

Galen’s eyebrows perked up. “Why’s that?”

“At the moment, I can only influence the blade itself and your body. Even then, I would be unable to create a cut on you, only weaken you as I did earlier. The stronger you and the bond between you and Tellus grows, the more I will be capable of. The first thing that happens with the growth of strength is that others can see me without having to touch Tellus.”

“So, you’re kind of a spirit right now. You can’t do much without Toneruth’s and my help.”

“Correct.”

Galen tapped his chin. Having a training partner would be awesome, especially one with as much experiences as Sybyll. They wouldn’t have to worry about using training swords either, since neither could hurt the other. “Are there any cool techniques I can use with Toneruth?”

“There are a couple of techniques unique to Tellus, though it will take some time for you to learn them. First, however, you must improve your sword-fighting skills.” She leaned forward. “Tellus is different than the blade you are used to. Its length, shape, weight and power are all unique, not to mention how it cuts.” She put a hand on the hilt of her own sword. “Like when I cut you during our fight, Tellus will not rend flesh. It will cut strength and willpower. As such, it is immune to armor, scales, thick skin and other methods your enemies may use to avoid damage. Do not get overzealous, however. It can still be blocked by a weapon with no trouble, as a weapon will have no strength or willpower to cut through. This also means you will need to land more strikes to take down a particularly strong-willed opponent.”

He grinned. Toneruth was starting to sound even cooler than in all the stories he heard! But as cool as it was, it could only be so useful when broken in half. Crossing his arms, he looked down to the sheathed Toneruth. “Do you know how to repair it?”

“No. My suggestion would be to find a blacksmith capable of the task. The master blacksmith who first created the blade may have had an apprentice. With luck, his skills would’ve been passed down along with the knowledge of how to build or repair Tellus.”

Galen nodded. Another quest! That reminded him, he still had to help out the Kraken by finding Poseidon. He wished now that he had asked her where Poseidon was, but if she was really the ruler of the seas, it shouldn’t be too hard to seek her out. He glanced back at Seira, who had since lost interest in the conversation and was now staring off into the distance, watching the forest. She looked almost majestic with the way the light hit her. The wind played with her hair and braid as her tail swung back and forth with liquid motion. If not for the squint in her eyes, Galen would’ve thought her at peace.

“Alright!” he said, slapping his knees and standing up. “I know what I need to do now. All that’s left to figure out is what’s first. Seira, where do you want to go?”

She turned away from the forest, regarding Galen with curiosity. “You’re asking me? I’d thought you enjoyed leading.”

“Yeah, but a good leader should listen to his companions!”

“Hmm.” She glanced down to Toneruth, now on Galen’s hip next to his longsword. “I still have something to figure out. I will go wherever, as long as we’re on the move.” Dropping her arms to her sides, she let out a sharp breath. “Those lamia should be catching up soon.”

“Sybyll?”

“I go where you will.”

He touched Toneruth’s hilt. “It doesn’t hurt at all that Toneruth is broken? I can try to get it fixed first if that’s the case.”

“The state of the sword is of no concern to me.”

“Okay, then.”

To Galen, it seemed their biggest obstacle at the moment was information. They didn’t know Poseidon’s location or the location of a blacksmith who could fix Toneruth. The immediate threat, the lamia, could be avoided if they just kept moving with a good pace. Sooner or later it would rain and destroy their tracks. Galen pulled out the map, tracing along possible routes to the nearest cities. Almost due north was the monster city of Mallus, though it lay through miles and miles of the Scorched Lands. It would be an excessively dangerous route simply to find information. If they instead went northeast, there were some smaller villages a fair distance away, then a coastal city along the far east coastline. That would be a lot of travel, however, and they would be going back in the direction of the lamia. If the wind blew the wrong way, it could give their scent away. A few days west lay the city Fullsburg. The only obstacle was a fairly large river, making it easily the safest and quickest path from where they were now.

“Hey, Seira, how large is Fullsburg?” he asked.

“Pretty large. Why?”

“I wanted to know the chances of it having the information we’re after: both the location of Poseidon’s domain and where the best blacksmiths are. If it’s a larger city, our chances are better.”

“It’s definitely worth a shot.”

“Are we decided, then?” asked Sybyll as she stood up, pulling her bracers and boots tight.

“Yup! We’re off to Fullsburg!”

Galen nabbed his backpack and slung it on his back, full of energy. He set off with a prance, smile wide as a fool’s, away from the sun. Rolling her eyes, Seira quickly caught up to him and turned him around.

“What?”

“It’s afternoon. You want to walk toward the sun, not away from it.”

“Really?” He furrowed his brow, looking back and forth between Seira and the sun. “I guess I must’ve been talking for longer than I thought.”

“Yes, you were.”

He shrugged and set off, this time toward the sun, the same prance in his step and smile on his face. Sybyll dutifully followed and Seira brought up the rear. Seira kept her eyes cast east as often as possible. While they should’ve still had a fair lead on the lamia--assuming they even figured out where Galen and her had gone--she didn’t feel comfortable. Things were too casual, too lax for her.

The trio forged their way through the plains and forest west. Clouds began to move in from the west, a thin layer which left wandering shadows on the ground beneath them. The wind picked up as well, shaking the leaves on the trees so much their sound could be mistaken for rain. Galen’s nose picked up the scent of sap out of the dry air. He’d been hoping for rain, but there wasn’t a trace of it in the wind. They’d have to wait at least another day before getting their hopes up again. 

Sybyll strode, tall and passive, navigating through brush and branches without care. Her golden eyes remained ever-searching for threats. She only spoke when spoken to, answering the many questions Galen assaulted her with, from her village, her age, her favorite color and the like. Galen had hoped to soften her up, but that strict air never left her. He wondered if his constant questions were getting on her nerves. Surely she was happy for the company after so long being alone? If that room had never been entered in four hundred years, Galen and Seira would have been her first contact. Given the story of her history, it was possible she had never been the most social lizardman. Galen glanced back at her, narrowing his eyes. That would be his little mission for her. To lighten her up.

Past Sybyll, Galen caught a glimpse of Seira hanging out about twenty strides back. He realized he hadn’t felt her eyes on his back today. Maybe she was thinking on that thing she mentioned earlier, that ‘something’ she had to ‘figure out’. His curiosity had begun to tingle his tongue, the questions just waiting to come forth, but he swallowed them. She was his companion--things she kept to herself were hers and hers alone.

‘People need their secrets,’ his dad had told him. ‘Keeps them special, keeps them moving. The man without secrets is hopeless and defeated.’

Galen didn’t have any secrets he could think of. He could tell his companions more about his life back on Nox, but they would probably find that boring. No reason to bother them with it. Maybe that’s what Seira was thinking: it wasn’t worth bothering Galen.

But he wanted to be bothered!

Frowning, he turned back forward just in time to see a branch coming for his face. Gasping, he ducked, stumbling forward past the branch. Thank goodness for his reaction time.

“Are you alright, master?” said Sybyll.

“’Master’? You’re not going to call me master are you?”

“You are master of the blade I am bound to. It is fitting.”

“Just call me Galen,” he said, wiping the sweat from his forehead. They hadn’t had a break in a while and now seemed like a good a time as any. He waved for them to stop for a moment then pulled out his waterskin. As he drank, he noted it had started to run low. They’d need to find a spring or refill at the river ahead. Nothing too pressing, though. He offered the waterskin to Sybyll, but she declined with a wave.

“I do not need food nor drink. At least for now, my existence is transient.”

“Transient?”

She looked to a nearby tree branch and waved her arm up and down. It passed straight through the branch like she didn’t exist.

Galen was surprised he didn’t notice it earlier. “So your ability to influence stuff isn’t limited to fighting, it’s everything.”

“Correct. Until you learn how to wield Toneruth and your bond with it grows, I would be as a ghost.”

He took another swig of water before putting it away. Sitting down, he shifting his jaw back and forth. Sybyll would make a pretty sweet spy as she was now, but he definitely wanted to learn how to use Toneruth. Leaving her as-is wasn’t an option. Besides, he wasn’t so sure she didn’t want to evolve beyond a ghost. If it were him, he’d get awfully frustrated, not being able to touch or do anything. If only he could see beyond that stoic gaze of hers, he’d know for sure.

He sighed. It would come with time. She probably didn’t feel comfortable around Galena and Seira yet.

He leaned forward to look behind Sybyll at Seira, who was leaning up against a tree and facing east, her tail swinging gently back and forth. The wing kept grabbing her braid and tossing it around, but she didn’t look to care. Galen hopped to his feet and walked up behind her, sure to make plenty of noise as not to surprise her. With those ears, though, he wasn’t sure he could surprise her if he tried. Clasping his hands behind his back, he leaned forward and smiled at her.

She opened one of her striking red eyes and planted it’s gaze directly on Galen’s face.

“You know, my dad said people looking behind themselves all the time are either scared of what’s there or regretful for it,” he said

“Is your entire family this sentimental? I’m checking our backs for threats, not looking back on my past.”

He poked her shoulder. “I wonder, does that mean you’re scared or regretful?”

“Have I ever told you that you ask a lot of questions?”

Her ears grabbed his attention when they started twitching. He wondered if that was because she heard something or she was feeling nervous. “But you give such interesting answers.” He pointed at her wings. “Is your wing healing?”

She lifted her back off the tree, flaring out her wings enough to check the injury. It hadn’t grown at all since Galen last saw it, but if it had shrunk, it wasn’t by much.

“Still another few days or so till it’ll be back in commission, assuming we don’t run into those lamia again and I’m forced to use it.” Galen watched her chest bulge out and shrink back in as she sighed. “Just one dilemma after another.”

Galen’s hands squeezed together tight. Another dilemma? Was she actually going to reveal something? When she looked back down at him, his eyebrows shot up. She gave a half-smirk and shook her head.

“Shouldn’t we get moving again?”

His head sunk. “Yeah, I guess we should.”

Onward they went, chasing the sinking sun until only a sliver of it remained over the horizon. Galen gave up on his prodding at Seira, but resolved to resume later. If he just gave her the opportunity to talk about her secrets, he was sure she’d come forward. His job lied in letting her know his interest. They stopped for the night under the cover of an odd rock formation. It wouldn’t give the best shelter should it rain, but it did well enough for Galen in blocking the wind. Seira gave the wind no mind, climbing a nearby tree and resting on a branch like before. A part of Galen tugged at him, wanting to try out resting in a tree as well, but he wasn’t quite so confident with his stability while sleeping. His body was more fragile than Seira’s as well.

He tucked himself in against the rocks, giving a little shiver before letting out a sigh of contentment. His gaze wandered over the ceiling of leaves far above, imagining the gaps between them were stars. His mom had told him imagination was always useful, especially for the little things.

Like what the forest dreamt of when it slept.

  
**

  
Seira let her paws hang loose from the branch, staring at Galen as he drifted off. She never guessed she’d be spending so much time with him. He’d been the clumsy, stalky human who’d almost been her first meal in a week, nothing more. Then he had to go and ruin it by being… him. And when he mentioned Toneruth, that’d opened its own can of worms. What she wanted was to never see those lamia again and go about on her own, gaining allies from the shadows. Why had she come back for him, anyways? He’d proven he was almost certainly more trouble than he was worth when the lamia caught up, yet she’d gone and turned around. Nosy, too. All those questions, one would think he had a list of them memorized to pester all his new friends with. But he never asked without sincerity. Perhaps he recognized his own ignorance and took the most direct path to solving it. That was Galen in a word: direct. Shamelessly, most of the time.

She blew a half-hearted raspberry, absent-mindedly wrapping her tail about the branch. At least he’d made a good meal and would continue to provide as long as she stuck with him. They could travel together to Fullsburg, at least. That’s when she would decide for sure if it was worth tagging along. By then her wings would be healed and she’d be in a position to chase down allies should Galen not pan out. Fullsburg would be safest from the eyes of Medusuub as well, giving her a chance to rest. Running for weeks could really take it out of a manticore.

‘Well then you should stop over-exerting yourself with all this running!’ she heard his voice say.

What was the kid playing at? Sooner or later, he would realize how humans and monsters truly interacted. He’d only gotten a taste of it that night she milked him.

That lizardman wouldn’t do her much good, invisible as she was and tied to Galen so. Her story didn’t match up, either. She acted the paragon of discipline and poise, yet she said she had been a rebel back in her earlier years. And why would the blacksmith and mages choose a rebel? Wouldn’t that be the exact type of monster they couldn’t trust with such a task? Still, Seira figured she should learn what she could from the lizardman before they parted ways if that did end up being the case. If she fought along Solvet the last time a monster lord was overthrown, she may know intimate details about how to break The Covenant.

Her ears twitched. His breathing had slowed and evened. It was time for her to act. Quiet as a mouse, she slipped down the tree, landing with nothing more than a whisper. Sybyll sat atop the rock formation, facing the opposite direction, cross-legged and likely still awake. Meditating, perhaps. Keeping low and silent, Seira snuck up to Galen’s sleeping form and reached for his pack. She extracted the large glass container, smirking when she got a good look at it, and slinked away. She put as much distance between herself and Galen as she could while keeping him in sight. She knew he was a heavy sleeper, but he didn’t need to hear any of this.

While the container may have appeared transparent, she knew better. Seira tapped on the glass several times, making sure her audience was alert and listening.

“You might fool him through his ignorance, but you’re not outsmarting me. I don’t know what your game is, but you are going to listen.” It’d been such a long time since she’d spoken with a fierce growl that it tickled her throat. “I’ll allow you to travel with us, but you had better not touch the kid. I milked him last night. That means he’s MINE. No one else’s. If anything happens to him, I will be very unhappy. Do you understand? Turn red if you do.”

The glass container fogged, the passenger turning red in the moonlight. Seira smirked. Good. She was hoping it wouldn’t take much. As quietly as she’d taken it, she returned the container, shooting it one last glare before closing Galen’s pack back up and sneaking away, back to her perch. Once comfortable, she smiled to herself, her tail swinging back and forth. A glint of gold caught her attention; the lizardman was watching her. She leered back a moment before closing her eyes. Today had been a touch too stressful. Hopefully tomorrow would have more answers.

  
**

  
A giggle. Shifting. Poking. Rubbing. Seira’s nose twitched along with her ears. She knew what it was before she opened her eyes. The next poke on her cheek, she lashed out with a paw, grabbing the offending item and wrenching it out of Galen’s grasp. She opened her eyes and shot him a glare, a low growl rising from her gut. With a squeeze of her paw, the stick snapped and she discarded the pieces.

Galen couldn’t help himself now, holding his chest as he laughed at Seira, defying her angry eyes. “See, Sybyll? It’s great!”

“She doesn’t seem happy.”

“Well, yeah, because she didn’t want me to get her back so quickly. But she slept in, so it’s my victory.”

Seira dropped straight from the branch, landing a few feet in front of Galen without a sound but for the burst of air which kicked up the dead leaves around her. Keeping her eyes on Galen the entire time, she strode up to him and grabbed him by the clothing on his chest, yanking him close.

“Are you sure you want to wake a manticore like that?”

He closed his eyes and shot her a stupid grin. “Heh, you’re trying to be all scary but I think you liked it.”

Her tail wrapped around his leg, tightening its coils as it entangled him further. “You should be prepared to face the consequences if you pull something like that again.”

“Boop!” he said, poking her in the nose. Galen knew he might be pushing his luck, but from how she acted a couple days back, he figured she was playful enough not to take things too far. When her tail constricted his leg to the point of pain, he suspected he may have made a mistake, but she released him, uncoiling her tail as he dropped to the ground.

“Don’t think you’ve won,” said Seira, tracing a claw across his body as she walked past.

Galen clenched his hands into fists, trying to keep his grin from running away from him. He’d totally won, Seira was just too prideful to admit it.

“He didn’t do that stupid morning stretching ritual before waking me, did he?” Seira asked Sybyll.

“He did, in fact. But I do not find it ‘stupid’ to prepare one’s body for the day.”

“Uugh,” groaned Seira. “I’ll never live this down now. How did I not hear it?”

“He was very quiet about it.”

Galen skipped ahead of them, shouting, “Winner!”

He held onto his high spirits as they set out, now running from the sun. The cool wind of yesterday had brought more clouds, but still not the scent of rain. More and more of the forest passed by them, the same scenery through mild hills, broken up only by streaks of plains and the occasional bed of wild flowers. Galen scarfed down edible plants where-ever he found them, trying to stretch his food out as long as possible. He’d have to eat meat sooner or later, though. Hopefully the clouds would keep growing thicker and eventually give them the rain they needed, allowing him a fire for cooking.

They kept a strong pace fueled by Galen’s excitement. Not only did a wealth of information await them in Fullsburg, but it would be the first time he’d even been in a major city. He dreamt up scenarios of monsters and humans living together, great, bustling markets, sturdy guards with heavy armor, and city walls higher than he could see. If he was lucky, he’d be able to witness a brawl! His dad always said real men would enjoy a good brawl after downing their evening drinks. While Galen hadn’t been allowed any ‘evening drinks’ back home, out here he could do whatever he wanted!

As they crested the next hill, the sound of rushing water hit Galen’s ears. He froze, taking a good listen before breaking into a run. Sybyll and Seira followed close behind. His heart thudded in his chest as he hurried down the hill. His body could hardly keep up with his exhilaration. His feet moved on instinct, narrowly dodging rocks and other spots of poor footing. So close!

Galen broke out of the treeline, skidding to a halt just a few feet from the riverbank. Leaning over, he rested his hands on his knees to recoup. He kept his smile as he looked up and down the river. It was at least a hundred feet wide, its waters roaring over hidden rocks and logs. Galen had always pictured rivers as flowing more calm than this, but he was pleasantly surprised in the discovery. That was, until he realized the current would make swimming across all but impossible.

“So cool,” he said.

Sybyll caught up first. She put her hand on Galen’s back, checking to see if he was okay, but he waved her off, thanking her for her concern. They stared at the river while waiting for Seira. She wasn’t far behind.

“It’s too far across to swim safely. I could fly, but it would damage my wing more and there’s no way I’d be able to carry you while it’s injured. We’ll have to find a bridge,” said Seira, emerging from the forest beside Galen. She pointed downriver. “There should be one not far down that way.”

“Sweet!” He walked up to the bank, chugging down the rest of his waterskin, then crouched down and carefully refilled it in the rapids. Once finished, he stuffed it back in his pack and took off downstream, humming to himself. 

Just as Seira said, a bridge waited for them not another hour downstream. Constructed of wood, it was held up by several thick pillars. The walking surface itself was wooden planks laid length-wise, smooth against each other from one back to the other. An impressive structure, capable of carrying the weight of at least one wagon at a time. Galen was a bit surprised to see something so well-made out in the middle of nowhere, but pleased to come across it nonetheless. He already had all sorts of stories to go back home with, and this would only add to it. He couldn’t think of heading back yet, though. There was still plenty to do.

As Galen and his companions approached the bridge, they noticed something that made Seira extend her claws, Sybyll place her hand on her sword and Galen frown. 

They weren’t the only ones there.

**Chapter 7**

“Orcs.” Seira practically spat the word. 

“Huh?” asked Galen.

“It’s just like them to do something like this, too.” She checked her injured wing. “Now I really wish I could fly across this damn river and be done with it.”

“Why do you not like orcs so much? We haven’t even introduced ourselves.” Galen started prancing forward to do just that, but Seira’s paw lashed out and snagged him by his shirt, yanking him back. She loomed over him, poking his chest with a claw.

“Unless you master them, orcs are not to be trusted. They’re extraordinary simple-minded in their goals, but crafty enough to usually get their way.” Seira squinted, eyes analyzing the group waiting on the bridge. “Eight. Far too many to fight.”

“Can’t we just ask them what they want and give it to them? I’m sure they’ll let us cross, then.”

She flattened her gaze at Galen. “Guess what they want.”

“How should I--Ooohhhh.”

She patted him on the back, releasing her grasp. “Now you’re learning. I could get across without trouble, but you are a different story entirely.”

Seira rubbed her chin, watching the orcs, trying to figure out how to get by them when she was assaulted by a hug from Galen, almost pushing her over. He closed his eyes, grinning and squeezing as hard as he could. Seira grunted and pried him off, holding him at arms’ length.

“What was that for?”

“You don’t want to split up like last time! You could walk right by them and give me up, but you’re trying to help me get by, too.” He playfully smacked her on the back. “I knew you were a good companion.”

“We can save the revelry for after we get across the river.”

Galen nodded, then turned to the bridge. He couldn’t make out much from their distance, only a few black figures, a couple moving back and forth like a patrol. “Say, what are orcs like?”

“They’re about as tall as me, though they can get to be pretty short. Slighty chubby, ears and tail like a pig. What you really need to watch out for is their strength. They can swing war hammers around like sticks and have enough control over themselves to avoid permanently injuring human prey. Relentless, too. If we’re to get you across, we need to make sure they never know about you, or they accept your crossing. Running won’t work; they’ll outlast us.”

“Hmm.” Galen sat down cross-legged, slapping his hands to his knees. Closing his eyes, he calmed himself, trying to think up a way past this dilemma. From Seira’s advice, a straight-up approach probably wouldn’t work. The only thing they’d bargain for was Galen, and he had no interest in ending his adventure here. Fighting, while possible, was almost just as poor a choice. Galen didn’t know how to wield Toneruth and fighting with his normal sword would likely end up just like his fight with Seira. As good as Seira was, she couldn’t be expected to take on eight orcs, and Sybyll was completely unable to fight. The orcs wouldn’t even notice she was there. Some form of trickery was their only choice.

The sun still hung high in the sky, so waiting for nightfall would cost them many precious hours. If the lamia showed up, they’d be in a much worse situation. Trying to sneak by would be a poor option in broad daylight, but still better than combat. A distraction could work. They probably wouldn’t want anything from Seira, so if she grabbed their attention, it would give Galen some time. Perhaps not enough to make it all the way across, but it would be something. They also might be able to lure the orcs into a trap and either imprison them or knock them out. But where would they get such a trap in the middle of a forest like this? A trap hole for eight orcs would take forever to dig.

The last option would be to become their master. Showing a feat amazing enough to gain all of their respect would be difficult, however. Galen couldn’t think of anything off the top of his head.

No matter which way he looked at it, their path was laden with risk.

“Any ideas, Sybyll?”

“I suggest we wait for nightfall. You should be able to sneak by with a suitable distraction then, or, if they do find you, lose them in the pursuit. They may be excellent hunters during the day as an organized group, but at night is a different story. Orcs do not have great vision.” She crossed her arms. “You could also separate from Seira. You mentioned these lamia chasing you are after her, correct? Let her run, give her wing time to heal, and lose the lamia while we camp here. She can meet up with us again and carry you across with a fully-healed pair of wings.”

“We’re not separating again,” said Galen. “The lamia as just as much my problem as they are my companion’s.” He leaned forward, rubbing his forehead. “That also means waiting until night wouldn’t be a good idea. I can’t risk Seira on that, it’s not right.”

“Not ‘right’?” said Seira, walking over to Galen. “How many times am I going to have to tell you: you must do what is necessary, no matter how things are ‘supposed’ to go, or what is ‘right’. Your enemies don’t care about that.”

He turned to her, staring deep into those red eyes of hers. “That’s what makes us different. And earlier when we split up, I only went along because it was out of my control. Now that I am in control, I won’t let it happen again!”

“You’re being immature.”

“No, I’m principled! And it’s times like this that it’s most important.”

Seira put her paws on her hips, walking away. “Fine. I can’t argue with you like this.”

“So you agree with Sybyll? You think you should go off on your own until your wing heals?”

Sybyll interjected. “I am sorry, I did not mean for my suggestion to cause an argument.”

Seira ignored her. “It’s the most conservative option, but also the safest and most reliable.”

“I don’t like it,” said Galen.

She put her paws up in surrender. “Like I said, not going to argue.”

Galen grumbled to himself, but knew better than to press her. They could argue about it later. With splitting up, waiting, and making a trap all non-options, that led him to one choice.

“I’m going to sneak across. Seira, you distract them. Get their attention away from the underside of the bridge. I’ll have enough hand-holds to climb across underneath. We’ll meet at about this same spot upriver, but on the other side. Got it?”

Seira frowned, but nodded.

“Sybyll, you stick by me, let me know if any orcs are about to see me. It’ll give me time to reposition and hide.”

“Galen, there is not much cover under that bridge. You will be making noise as well.”

“I know. I’ll be relying on Seira to cover for me, but I have faith she’ll do the job.” He stepped toward her, poking her in the chest. “And don’t try to separate.”

“I know, I know. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Alll-right!” Galen punched his fists together. “Seira, do your thing. Sybyll will let me know when they’re not looking and I’ll approach the bridge on her signal.”

As Seira and Sybyll moved out to their positions, Galen chastised himself for missing a great huddle opportunity. Hopefully there would be plenty more in the future.

Crouching down, he locked his eyes on Sybyll and began the painful waiting game. His legs braced and tense, ready to explode into a run along the bank. He focused on his breathing, keeping it steady and slow. His thoughts kept going back to Seira, how she kept berating him about his tactics and ideals. He wanted to prove to her he wasn’t just words, that the world respected his ideas as well. A nagging voice in the back of his head told him he should be giving her words more weight. She was several times older than he, it would be natural for her to know these things, right?

Shaking his head, he brought his thoughts back to the moment. He could worry about Seira later. Any second now she should be showing up.

A silhouette approached the bridge. From his spot, he couldn’t make out much, but the mix of amber, red and charcoal told him it was most likely Seira. Part of him wished he could hear what she was saying, see how she was getting the orcs’ attention, but that wasn’t feasible. Seira became someone else when she was ‘in action’, and Galen wanted to know that Seira, too.

Sybyll raised her arm and Galen exploded out of cover. Keeping his footsteps quick but light, he darted toward the bridge. Once he got to the underside, he’d be safe until the other side of the river. Each heartbeat rang through his ears like a drum, low and constant. He couldn’t keep himself from glancing up at the small gathering of orcs around Seira, wishing quietly for her safety just before he hit the underside of the bridge. It took him a moment to find a good handhold, but as soon as he did, he was already started across. He had known the river’s width, but actually being there, under the bridge, climbing across with whitewater rushing beneath was a different experience entirely. For the most part he had to hang from the supports, his movement almost as if he were crawling upside-down. Every creak and moan the bridge gave out made Galen cringe. He tried to ease his mind by telling himself they were normal noises, that they happened all the time, but he couldn’t see how the orcs were reacting. He had Sybyll keeping an eye out and she hadn’t said anything yet. He supposed he should take that as encouraging.

His arms began to grow sore. It’d been a long time since he’d worked them so thoroughly. The wood he clung to was perpetually damp, meaning his grip had to be iron, lest his hands slip. Spray from the river buffeted him continually, like the river was spitting at him for trying to sneak across it. He froze when he heard the bridge creak above him. Was it an orc investigating? Or just wandering? He checked his position--he was only halfway, but his arms screamed at him like they wouldn’t last another ten feet. Blood rushed to his head, but he fought to stay calm and concentrate. Regardless of whether or not the orcs suspected, he’d have to keep moving, lest he fall into the current.

He could’ve sworn he was moving the same speed as before, but the end never seemed to get closer. Each reach and grab burned through his muscles like fire, but he kept on. Passing another pillar, he glanced over to Sybyll. No signal.

“Keep going, you’re almost there,” she said.

Galen coughed a chuckle, not seeing the passive, cold Sybyll as someone to root him on like that. With a quick exhale, he pushed forward. His arms screamed at him to stop, to rest. His breaths became harsh, but still he climbed. Just as his fingers were about to fall off, he hit the opposing shore, collapsing into a ball and huddling up against the side of the bridge. The climb took far more out of him than he expected. He wouldn’t be able to dart off into cover with his arms and legs like this. All he needed was a minute to rest and get feeling back in his limbs.

“Galen,” said Sybyll. He looked up and she pointed across the bridge. “Seira is coming and she has an escort. It appears they are allowing her to cross, but they may spot you once they get to this end.”

“Shoot,” he whispered. “Can I make a break for it?”

“Not now. Her escorts have their attention on this side of the river. They would see you before you made it to cover.”

“Shoot again!” He glanced back to the underside of the bridge. “Tell me right before they get here and I’ll hang out under the bridge.”

“You should go now. They are close.”

Suppressing a groan, Galen grabbed back onto the bridge supports, his arms immediately protesting. A true adventurer had the willpower to get through situations like this! He couldn’t give in. After they were all safely past this, he’d have another story to tell, but it wouldn’t work if he let himself fall here.

Footsteps and groaning wood planks announced the arrival of Seira and her escorts.

“If you see any humans, send them this way, yeah?” Galen couldn’t recognize the voice. Must’ve been one of the orcs.

“I can’t guarantee they’ll have anything left in them.” That was Seira.

“After we did you the favor of letting you across? Manticores really are cruel.” Cruel? Seira? He kept hearing about how fearsome manticores were supposed to be, but Seira had yet to show any of that. Well, except for that one night in Silere. Galen’s arousal flared up at the memory, flustering himself with his lack of concentration. He had other things to worry about!

“Hey, do you smell that?”

“Huh?” Galen heard noses testing the air. “Is that a human?”

“Yeah, that’s just what I was thinking!” A few steps. “Hey, manticore, you didn’t run into any humans, did you?”

‘Triple shoot!’ thought Galen. All he could do was hang there and hope.

“Mmm, I did last night. He was delicious.”

“That explains it.”

Galen sighed.

“Naw, this smell is too fresh for last night. Smells like arousal, too. He’s gotta be close.” 

His grip tightened on the wood so hard he thought he’d snap it. Could he please get a break?!

“Galen, it’s time to run,” said Sybyll.

He looked over to her, then back up on the bridge. One of the orcs was staring directly at him.

Quadruple sh--

“There he is!”

Galen was out from under the bridge in a flash, sprinting away in another. He wasted no time looked behind, devoting everything to putting as much distance between those orcs and himself as possible. Sybyll ran alongside him, though she looked to put no effort in her stride while Galen’s legs pumped like pistons. They were already worn from the climb and his breathing had been heavy when he started. If the orcs were as persistent as Seira said, he had no hope of outrunning them. He’d need to find a place to hide or lose them. In a worst-case scenario, somewhere he could fight one at a time.

Unfortunately, forests rarely offered that sort of cover.

Without a feasible means of escape of fighting, he’d have to think his way out of this. He spoke to Sybyll through heavy breaths, making sure to watch his feet as he ran. “Sybyll, what do you know about orcs that could help me right now?”

“They always hunt in packs. Their preferred method is to flank the target after exhausting it. They are not agile fighters, but their bodies can take a fair amount of punishment and they often need only land one blow to put their opponent down.”

Galen leapt over a rock, his feet hitting the ground with a thud. He kept his path downhill as much as possible to give his legs at least a little help. Right now, the orcs sounded like the worst sort of enemy for this situation. He’d leave all sorts of signs with which he could be tracked, he was already worn, there was no terrain to use to his advantage, and he was terribly outnumbered.

“Are orcs strong-willed?”

Sybyll’s golden eyes narrowed as she considered the question. “Not necessarily. Tellus would effectively nullify their endurance, but broken as it is, I would strongly recommend against using it. Getting in close during combat is a not a good idea.”

“Dangit! Can’t I catch one stupid break?”

Heavy footsteps thumped against the ground behind them, approaching alarmingly fast. Galen spared himself a second to look behind himself and was relieved to find it was Seira, not an orc.

“Got any ideas?” Galen asked her.

“They’re only coming for you. I could break off, take them out one-by-one. I could probably get two or three before they even realize what’s happening. Right now, they’re thinking I’m trying to chase you down. My speed will--“

“Weren’t you the one that said fighting eight wouldn’t be feasible?”

“We’re out of options, Galen! We have to do the best with what we have. They’re not going to let us go without a fight!”

“If we fight, we’re not separating! That’s not how--“

“I swear to the mother of all monsters if you finish that sentence I’m going to punch you!”

Galen clenched his teeth, ducking to the side to avoid a tree. He scanned the area for anything to use, huffing when nothing more than trees and dead leaves revealed themselves. If he just had something to work with, he could find a way out of this, he knew it.

“Do either of you know anything about orcs we could use that you haven’t already mentioned?”

“They are, in general, superstitious,” said Sybyll.

“Superstitious? Like, they believe in ghosts and supernatural stuff?”

“Correct. Under the right circumstances, they would fear it.”

That might be what he needed. He didn’t know magic, and Sybyll couldn’t affect anything besides himself or the sword, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t without his weapons. His gaze sharpened, gears turning in his head, possibilities being created and discarded, contingencies, variations all considered and applied. Heroes in his father’s tales could squeeze out of situations like this, so he had to prove he could as well. Not to Seira or Sybyll, but to himself.

He broke off his run, coming to a stop and turning around. Four of the orcs were visible from his spot, all moving at a light run. He could make out grins of exhilaration on their faces. To them, this was another hunt and Galen nothing more than prey. He would have to prove he was much more than that.

“Galen! What are you doing?” barked Seira.

“Getting us out of this.” He planted his feet, crashing his fists together. His adventure couldn’t end here--this had to work.

“By giving up?” She walked up to his side, panting. That run must’ve taken more out of her than he’d thought. Trying to pick the orcs off never would’ve worked.

“I’m not giving up. Now just let me do the talking.”

The orcs were upon them. The other four must’ve been the flanking group, as they were nowhere to be found. Galen had no doubt they’d show up soon, though. They looked just as Seira described: tall, a bit pudgy with pig ears and tail. They wore little, a belt with a cloth attached covering their nethers, hard leather armor over their shins and forearms as well as a special piece covering most of their breasts. Their hair, coming down to their chins, looked greasy and worn. From the smell they gave off, Galen figured they didn’t care too much to hygiene. All four had their eyes on him with varying degrees of lust and excitement in their stares. One had tough gauntlets on, likely doubling as a weapon and armor, while the other three held clubs and hammers, all much heavier than what Galen could’ve carried. Even a glancing blow from one would put him down.

He couldn’t show any fear. Total confidence would be required to pull his plan off. In a smooth, swift motion, Toneruth was out, hovering in the air between Galen and his opponents. He blushed at seeing the broken blade, embarrassed at putting it off as a true weapon, but swallowed his pride and hardened his grip.

“Little man gonna use that twig to fight all four of us?” One, presumably the leader, stepped forward, hoisting her club over her shoulder. “Stupid thing doesn’t even have a blade on both sides.”

“This ‘twig’ is Toneruth,” he spat.

The leader lifted her head, spitting laughter at his comment. The other three joined in with similar cackles of their own, pointing at Galen and holding their sides. Slapping her side, the leader slammed her foot on the ground. “I didn’t know yeh was gonna be a bucket a’ laughs, too! Looks like you’s gonna have more use than a semen dispenser.” She leaned forward. “Ya know, if you put that thing away and pull the other thing out right now, we might only rape ya till next week.”

Galen’s face heated with anger and humiliation, but he held onto the sword. Their cockiness would only serve him well. He just had to wait for the right moment to strike.

“Not gonna listen? Well, I can’t be res’pons’ble for any kinda injury. You shouldn’t worry too much ‘bout that, though. We’ll make ya feel real good.” She brought the club to bear, then shot Seira a glare. “This one’s ours. I suggest you scram. I’d be a pity if my friend behind ya had to leave a mark.”

Galen didn’t turn around. He knew they had no reason to bluff. All he needed to do was watch the leader. Wait for that mistake.

Seira’s gasp confirmed what he already knew. A shuffling of leaves later, the leader relaxed. “Dat’s better.”

It was then Galen saw it. The shift of her grip, tensing of muscles, the glance off to Seira--that was all he needed.

He exploded into action, stepping forward with his strike. Toneruth hummed as it struck, a viper of metal and light. He could feel the eyes on him, friend and foe alike. He pushed the blade faster, as if he was slicing the air itself, watching the broken tip blur with its motion and hone in on its target. Even as the blade soared toward her, the leader smirked, amused with Galen’s attempt. She shifted her arm so the armor faced the oncoming blade. Typically, that’s all she’d need to do, with the blade being so short and inconsequential.

But this was no typical blade.

At the point of contact, Galen saw the blade waver--and pass through the leather armor as if it did not exist. When Toneruth hit the leader’s arms, the hilt went cold, much the same as Galen remembered feeling when Sybyll cut him. It passed through the leader’s arms without leaving a mark. He kept from smiling as he watched her eyes flash from smug to fearful. The moment he regained control of the momentum from the strike, Galen stepped to the side. The monstrous club she had been holding now had nothing to keep it in place. It slipped from her now-numb hands and crashed to the ground, her eyes darting between Galen and her hands.

“How did you do that?” she said, stepping back.

He desperately hoped the orcs behind him weren’t making a move, but he couldn’t turn around. He had to hold eye contact, make an example out of the leader. “Didn’t I already tell you? This is Toneruth. It is protected by spirits of battle. It cuts spirit, not flesh.” He strode up to the leader, keeping his posture straight and haughty. “That’s not all. The spirits are all around us. In fact, there’s one holding a blade to you right now!” He flipped Toneruth so it was hilt-first, hesitating just a second to let Sybyll draw her sword and leap into place. When he jabbed the leader with the hilt, Sybyll and her sword were very suddenly visible.

The leader’s jaw dropped. Her eyes, wide and shaking, stayed locked on Sybyll’s sword tip hovering inches from her neck.

“Wha--where’d yeh come from?”

“I’ve always been here. You are lucky my master has not ordered your death. Yet.”

The rest of the orcs, not privy to the display, all readied their weapons, ready to pounce but unsure of what they should be watching. Some watched the empty space where their leader gaped and the others looked about frantically, trying to spy out other enemies. Galen fought the urge to look back at Seira and smirk.

“Now I’m not one much for violence, so it would really pain me to end all of you when all you were really looking for was a meal. I take it you’re of the same mind?” asked Galen.

“Y-yeah.” The leader swallowed loud enough for Galen to hear.

“Great! So why don’t you gather your friends and head on back to the bridge? Today is the not the day you’ll be feeding on semen.” He brandished Toneruth, then slid it back in its sheath with a satisfying clink. “And I would hurry. The other spirits you still can’t see are getting very restless.”

Putting her arms up in surrender as much as she could, the leader took several slow steps backward. “You h-heard ‘em. Let’s prepare for the next guy who tries to get by. This ain’t worth it.”

The rest were too shaken to even mutter and agreement. All eight took off at a jog, breaking into a run once they were a safe distance away. Galen straightened his back, crossing his arms and grinning with more than a touch of satisfaction as he watched them flee. When they had finally disappeared from sight, he jumped as high as he could, thrusting his fist into the air.

“HOW DO YOU LIKE THAT?” he shouted. He brought up his fists, throwing punches at an imaginary enemy, bouncing up and down on his feet. “I did it! I totally did it! Did you see that? They ran!” He held his hands out, looking back and forth from Seira to Sybyll, mouth hanging open in anticipation.

“That was cl--“

“You bet it was!” Galen hollered, cutting Sybyll off. Shaking his fists, he jumped up again, still bulging with excitement. “Man, I’m gonna have such great stories when I go back to Nox! I’m on my way to being a real adventurer!”

Seira sighed, crossing her arms under her breasts, looking off to the side. “It ended up fine, I suppose.”

She turned just in time to see Galen rush in for a tackle, almost taking her clean off her feet. With clever use of her tail, she regained her balance, though Galen stayed clamped on and squeezed her in a fierce hug. “And we did it without splitting up!”

“Woah there, hun.” Galen, despite the strength of his spirit, couldn’t keep Seira from breaking away. He wished she’d return at least one of his hugs. “Just because we ended up getting away without splitting up, doesn’t mean your choices were smart.”

“Aww, c’mon! The fact that we succeeded means exactly that!”

“No, it does not!” She stomped her foot-paw, jabbing Galen in the chest with a claw. “When a war is won, the victorious side is just that: victorious. They are not necessarily right or honorable or deserving. We went into that situation with crossed fingers and blind hope which almost got you caught. Do you realize what that would’ve meant? There’s no way I could’ve rescued you on my own, and I don’t have any friends around here. You could’ve been their captive indefinitely! You almost were!”

“But I wasn’t,” he said, sticking his chest out.

Seira seized her head, growling. “I am talking to a kid! That’s all you are, a kid!” She turned back to Sybyll. “Please back me up here.”

Sybyll, her gaze ever-passive, crossed her arms and looked downward in thought. “Seira is not without a point. The ends do not qualify the means as anything other than successful. There were other methods which I believe would have been more prudent.”

“You, too?” said Galen, a frown growing on his face. “I thought we were supposed to celebrate this kind of stuff, not argue over it.”

“It is cause for celebration, but that does not make it immune to criticism.”

He jammed his hands under his armpits. “Fine. Let’s keep going, then. They might change their minds about letting us go, anyways.”

Grimacing, he stomped off, the usual spring in his step gone and the tune he often hummed absent from his mind. Seira and Sybyll watched him walk away, both wrestling with their own minds about the incident. Sybyll started off to follow him, but stopped when Seira put a hand in front of her.

“Sooner or later, if he doesn’t snap out of that ignorant mindset of his, he’s going to find himself in a situation his principles won’t get him out of,” said Seira, staring into Sybyll’s eyes. “And I might not be there to bail him out.”

“’Ignorant?’” Sybyll raised an eyebrow. “An interesting word for it. Perhaps not the one I would use.”

“Which word would you?”

She stroked her chin a moment, letting a thick silence pass between the two before choosing her answer.

“Worthy.”

**Chapter 8**

She hadn’t meant for this.

Seira kept her distance behind Galen, watching the lad closely as he walked. His steps were sluggish, he dragged his feet, and most concerning was that he hadn’t said a word in hours. Fullsburg lied another day west. She knew that would cheer him up. Not just because of the information that hopefully awaited them there, but the new experience. Right now, however, it was plain to see his spirits were dampened. While Seira felt some satisfaction at her words finally getting through to him, the longer she watched him carry on like he was, the more that feeling faded. Something else had replaced it, something she did not expect. She would almost describe it as nausea, but higher in her chest, an alien sickness which continued to spread.

Galen was meant to be happy, not… this.

The dropping sun flashed in her eyes, making her squint and lose focus for a second. The air around her thickened as if heavy with steam, rife with the scents of a fading forest. Nightly insects had begun their chorus and Seira’s ears twitched in response. She kept opening and closing one of her paws, pushing her claws into the pads, a tingle shooting up her arm with each clench. The wind brushed her hair against her cheeks as if it tickling her. She ignored it. Her eyes kept on their target.

“I would have thought you more pleased at this.”

Seira missed a step, surprised Sybyll would speak up. She had hardly spoken of her own accord since sharing her story when they’d first met.

“Me too. But this doesn’t feel right. My stomach doesn’t agree with it.” She rubbed her chest. “Almost like how I felt when I met him.”

“What was that like?”

“As you can guess, it wasn’t what I expected. I figured I’d spook him a bit, drain him, and move on. Pretty routine.” She stretched out her neck, leaning her head to the left then right. “Things started out how I planned, but when I got to the actual feeding, he stopped resisting.”

“So he wished to copulate from the beginning. Not all that uncommon.” Her words came out in that even tone of hers.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. But it wasn’t that he wanted it because he knew it’d feel good, he wanted it because he was curious. Like, completely ignorant about the whole process.” She shrugged. “That killed my appetite. I don’t like it when they want it, so I walked away with the strangest stomach ache.” She pressed a paw against her stomach. “But not like I was sick. It was more like… my body felt I should be sick. If that makes sense.”

“Not typical, but I think I understand the notion. You had not encountered someone like him before.”

“Something like that. And I’m getting the same feeling now.” Her mouth twisted into a half-frown. “What I said before to him, I meant it and I stand by it. His ideology is too ignorant for the real world. But I almost feel like I’m missing something, too.”

“If I may, I would like to share my point of view.”

Seira nodded. “Go ahead.”

“He is a human from an isolated island, an isolated life, and at times the owner of a reckless sort of enthusiasm toward whatever may throw itself in his path. But, even given those traits, he is not without intelligence. In a way, he represents an idealism I think many have once had, especially in youth. As we grow old, we shed more and more of that relentless hope in favor of an armor of realism. We accept the things we cannot change, make due with what we have.

“Galen, however, raised in his shell of isolation, has allowed his dreams to blossom. And we would expect when removed from such an environment, they would wither and die.” Sybyll raised a hand, gesturing to Galen. “Yet here he is, already past two ordeals with such beliefs intact. What has allowed that, I wonder? Perhaps that question is the very thing that bothers you now.”

Ducking under a branch, Seira looked to Galen. Sybyll had a point. As dire as things became, he always made his way through. The lamia, the search for Toneruth, and now the orcs. Could it be there was something to him, something less obvious, eluding Seira despite her scrying eye? Of course, such success could also be attributed to luck. If she stayed with him and continued to watch, she would know if his luck ran out or not.

She narrowed her eyes as if trying to look through him. Soon enough, she would know.

  
**

  
Arms still stiffly-crossed, Galen continued to trudge through the forest, staring at the ground. Seira and Sybyll had been following at a distance for a while now, saying nothing to him, though he could sense them back there. They’d talked amongst themselves, too. Maybe about him. 

In front of him stood an invincible enemy, massive, intimidating, and breathing down his neck with each step. Galen had no weapon against it, but still fought. Every attempt at cheering himself up was swatted down the moment the though went through his head. It was true that his method was risky, probably unnecessarily so. It was true there were safer alternatives. It was true his plan hadn’t worked out as he hoped. It was true he had almost been made a prisoner of that band of orcs. Those were facts, no matter how he might try to squirm around them.

But he couldn’t just give up on what he knew, what he’d learned. Companions stick together, fight as one, celebrate as one. The good guys always won, even if the battle wasn’t easy. No, especially if the battle wasn’t easy. With all these doubts clouding his head, he found himself not dwelling on adventurers or heroes of legend, but his father. 

“What would you do, dad?”

Would he stick his beliefs like a tree planting its roots? Or would he drift away like a log on a raging river? There were times to stand by what you knew, but other times where the discovery of something new would make it foolish to stay stubbornly in place. ‘Even iron knows to bend to flames,’ his father would say. But was this discontent fire meant to soft Galen, or water meant to harden him?

Back on Nox he never had to ask himself these questions. His parents and teachers gave him a path to follow and he followed it. They taught him the proper way of things. Biased, maybe, but without malice. They’d never had anything but his best interests in mind.

Is this part of what an adventure was about? Figuring these things out for yourself? Galen’s grimace deepened as he kicked up some leaves. He didn’t like this part.

His dad would… would what? He was a stalwart man, always correcting people when they did something wrong, direct in his ways but not harsh. Usually. He’d always put others before himself, but not to the point of throwing himself away for a common good. He believed in helping others not by providing, but by instruction. He didn’t have much for a sense of humor and didn’t find frequent celebration or revelry necessary, though when he did find cause for it, he went all-out. His friends could always get a smile out of him and even informal visits could go on for hours, conversation drifting from past to present to hobbies to family. Part of Galen wanted him here right now, while another told him this was something he would have to get through on his own.

The forest seemed to drag on and on. The same trees, rocks, and dead leaves would say farewell only to greet him again later. Each time the wind hit him, it was from the same direction and with the same strength. Even the sun hung in the sky, unmoving. Only the change in temperature kept Galen from drifting off completely. It had dropped from comfortably warm to chilly before he knew it. He still had a couple good hours before nightfall, though, and his intention was to continue ‘till then.

“Galen.” It was Sybyll.

“Hmm?” He glanced her direction, but gave little care to her presence.

“I suggest we train.”

“Yeah, I guess that would be a good idea.” He hopped over a large rock in his way, the first change in his walking pattern for a long time.

“I mean now.”

He halted in his tracks. “Now?”

She nodded. “Yes, now. We have made good progress today and that bridge will undoubtedly slow any pursuers, assuming we have any. We should spend these last hours of light training.”

“I--“ He tried to come up with a protest, but outside of his dulled mood he couldn’t think of one. Now that he thought about it, Toneruth had been burning in its scabbard, begging to be used ever since he’d started wearing it. That encounter with the orcs had only quelled Galen’s thirst temporarily. “Okay. Let’s train.”

Seira stepped forward. “Galen, I think--“

He shook his head. “If it’s about what we were talking about earlier, don’t say it.” He couldn’t discuss it with her, not yet, not until his mind was clear on what he wanted.

She took his request into consideration, staring at him a moment in silence before nodding. “I will hold it for now, but you will hear it soon enough.” She walked off to the nearest tree and climbed up to one of the larger branched and made herself comfortable.

Galen knew she wouldn’t forget it. He didn’t want her to. Waving Sybyll over, he drew the broken Toneruth and held it out, ready to spar. Sybyll, however, pushed the blade down and shook her head.

“First, I must teach you what makes Tellus--or Toneruth, as you call it--different from your other sword.” She positioned herself behind Galen, wrapping her long, sturdy arms around his body to rest her hands atop his where they gripped the sword. “Your blade is heavier than Toneruth, even moreso with Toneruth broken. While you should keep a firm grip, you should not seize up as you would with your other blade. Also, because Toneruth meets no resistance on successful strikes, you do not need such strength in your strikes to cut through the enemy. If you keep in mind Toneruth’s relative fragility, however, a stronger grip with allow some of the shock to come to your arms instead of being soaked up by the blade alone. Therefore, when the enemy is about to catch your strike with their own weapon, you should tense up.” Her hands molded Galen’s to mimic her instructions as she spoke.

While Sybyll may have been little more than a spirit to other people and monsters, to Galen she was real in every way. The faint scents on her breath, the rising and falling of her chest, and the touch of her adjusting his hands reminded him of that. Galen felt heat rush to his face. While Sybyll’s touches were for purely instructional purposes, she was hardly unattractive. Her smooth skin and well-toned figure did more than intimidate Galen and he wasn’t entirely sure she realized it. When she shifted her body he felt her breasts push against his back.

“Did… did you do this kind of stuff with Solvet?” he asked.

“Not this particularly. When he came across Toneruth, he already knew how to fight to satisfaction. Your methods are still immature.” Her eyes shifted off to the right. “Your swordplay methods, at least.”

He didn’t know whether to feel complimented or insulted. Knowing Sybyll, it was probably meant as a neutral statement of fact. “But I still have the ability to learn.”

“I see no reason why not. Else I would not be teaching you.” She stepped out from behind Galen, drawing her sword and holding it length-wise in front of her. “Now pay attention. This is exactly how Toneruth will look when whole. It’s a blade born of my own power, little more than an illusion, but it will work for our purposes. Just do not expect me to be able to fight anyone else with it.” She slipped a hand under the blade, across the dulled side, her claws hugging the gleaming metal over its gentle curve. “This curve is a natural result of the forging process. I could not tell you more than that, as I am no blacksmith, but I can tell you what it means in a fight. The curve makes cuts more effective and jabs less effective, though the curve is slight enough for jabs to still be a feasible attack.” She flipped the blade over. “Be careful not to attack with the dull edge if possible. It is weaker, structurally, and swinging with it forward with make strikes less effective.”

Galen flipped Toneruth over and back, scrunching up his face when he looked at it. “Why does it even have a dull side, anyways? Seems kind of useless.”

“You would need to ask the one who created it. However, it does have one use. If you are ever in a contest of strength and your blade has already met the other, you can move one of your hands to press into the strike where it would be most effective.” She slid her hand over the dull edge of her blade to demonstrate. “You also do not need to worry about cutting yourself if the force of your block or parry is not enough to stop the enemy blade completely.”

Galen listened intently as Sybyll explained the nuances of Toneruth, not just as a magical blade, but a physical weapon as well. She went over different grips and their pros and cons. She showed him how to manipulate his body and strike from a stance, pointing out some of his poor habits and other good habits she wanted to see him continue. Once she made tweaks, she had him practice swings until his arms were weary enough to fall off. He never complained, for he knew the path to becoming a great swordsman would not be easy. He never wanted it to be easy.

Seira remained perched in her tree, watching Galen and Sybyll as the day wore on. Her hair and fur gently tussled in the wind, her tail hanging carelessly below the branch. On occasion, Galen would shoot her a glance and they would meet eyes for a moment. She wished she could see behind them.

On the ground, Galen wished the same to himself, but did his best to keep from getting distracted. He wanted to make the best of the time he had. Only when the sun dipped below the horizon and Sybyll instructed him to quit did he sheath Toneruth. He held his arms out, letting them go limp at the elbow, and flopped them about, giggling to himself as he watched them flail. It’d been a while since he’d tired them so.

He turned to Sybyll, wishing to get some sort of reaction out of her, but she wore her usual stoic gaze, though he detected a touch of curiosity in the slight elevation of her eyebrow.

“Do you always drag your tail?”

She glanced back at her tail, then to Galen. “I do not see how that is relevant.”

“Well, I noticed Seira always keeps hers up, but you drag yours. I was just curious, I guess.”

“It is nothing of significance. My tail is sturdy. Dirt and leaves would have no effect on it, and as I am I do not have to worry about anything ever effecting it.”

He dropped his hands to his sides, still staring at her tail. “Isn’t that a bummer?”

She cocked her head slightly. “My tail being immune to damage?”

“No, being like you are. Almost a ghost. You don’t get hungry, can’t really touch anything and the world can’t touch you back.” He raised his head. “I mean, I wouldn’t like it.”

“It is an acceptable existence.”

Frowning, he arched his eyebrows. “Wow, now I’m even more bummed for you.”

“I do not understand. I just stated I was fine with it.”

“No, you said it was ‘acceptable’. What kind of way is that to look at your life? Just ‘acceptable’? It should be great, or heading toward it!” He gripped the sheath holding Toneruth without thinking and squeezed.

“I do not require pleasantries such as ‘touching’ the world. I have the tools I need to ensure Tellus’ wielder is able to accomplish whatever task they have set themselves to and as such, I am satisfied.”

“And what if ‘Tellus’ wielder’,” said Galen, making an awkward face as he spoke the words, “wants you to enjoy yourself?”

“I just told you that I--“

“You need a hug.” Galen stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sybyll, though not with the crushing strength or enthusiasm with which he often attacked Seira, but a warm, gentle embrace. Smiling, Galen rested his head against her chest, closing his eyes.

Sybyll did not hug back, but stood in place, arms at her sides, looking down at Galen. “You aren’t truly hugging me, but an illusion of a consciousness within a sword.”

“It’s the thought that counts.”

She said nothing, standing in her odd, stiff posture, Galen clinging to her and showing no signs of letting go. 

“Are you content yet?”

He lifted his head. “It’s not about whether or not I’m content. It’s about you.”

“Then I am content.”

He sighed but released her nonetheless, grumbling to himself, “Someone’s going to return a hug one of these days.”

With the sun set and training over, there was little for Galen to do but sit and watch the forest until he grew drowsy enough to sleep. He considered talking with Sybyll, but she seemed uninterested. Seira he’d talk with later.

Slapping his hands to his sides, he meandered through the forest, kicking up dirt and looking for nothing in particular. Eventually he came to a sizable rock jutting out of the ground smooth and wide enough to hold him, so he plopped himself down, leaning back on his arms and staring at the treetops. Stars, right? That’s what they were last night, anyways. Maybe tonight they were cracks.

‘Just because we ended up getting away without splitting up doesn’t mean your choices were smart.’

Seira’s words cut into him like any blade. He almost didn’t want to be smart if it meant he couldn’t be courageous, too. 

He could try moving forward as he always had, but take note of when his principles helped and when they hindered. Maybe that’s what he needed to learn: the strengths and weaknesses of his thoughts and actions, how they meshed with the world, and how to improve. He huffed and leaned forward on elbows. That sounded a lot like compromising, though. He didn’t like to compromise, he wanted to be different, be the guy that made it through all his troubles despite his weaknesses. He didn’t want to cover them up or replace them--he liked who he was now.

He drew Toneruth, the distinctive hiss of metal leaving a sheath kissing the air as the broken blade came free. Balancing the weight on his fingers, he moved the blade until the sharp edge caught the moonlight and reflected it into his eyes. The waves forged into the sword flowed as the weapon hovered in its precarious balance. Galen asked himself what he had been expecting when he found it. For someone to walk up to him and hand him an ‘adventurer’s permit’ or something? For everyone to suddenly start respecting him and his ideas? At the very least, he’d thought he’d have a super-weapon capable of rending the earth, but this? Unique, yes, but nothing much to it when broken. He wanted actual strength, not some withered symbol of it.

Stories weren’t always everything he chalked them up to be, he guessed.

  
**

  
Morning came with no poked noses, giggling or pranks. For once, the sun itself woke Galen, peering into the cracks of his eyelids and prying his eyes open. Yawning, he located his bag and took a drink before hopping to his feet. He reached down to his toes and started to stretch, just like every other morning. Maybe today would be better, maybe not, but skipping his routine definitely wouldn’t help. It felt good to wake his body up, shake off the stiffness in his back. The ground had never been particularly kind to him as a bed. When he got to running in place, he checked to see where Seira and Sybyll were.

Sybyll was sitting cross-legged, back against a tree, her eyes closed and breathing steady. He wondered what she did during the night, seeing as she didn’t need to sleep. She might be thinking about her past experiences, her home village, or nothing at all. Her face was always empty of any real emotion. Could she really be so detached?

Far above Sybyll hung Seira, awake and watching Galen, her foot-paws absent-mindedly scratching the tree bark. When he caught her eye, she hopped off the branch, digging her claws into the trunk and riding it all the way to the ground.

“Come to get that conversation out of me?” he asked, half-sarcastic, half-dreading.

“No, I figure you’ll come out with it when you’re ready. I just wanted to give you the chance if you wanted to.”

The corners of his mouth curled upward into a tiny smile. Nodding, he slung his backpack onto his shoulders and set out.

Soon. He’d have his answers soon.

The three paraded through the forest, west like always, keeping their eyes and ears open. 

Just as the day began to wear on, they broke through the end of the treeline to reveal their destination.

Galen’s jaw dropped. His village didn’t even come close. Fullsburg was on a whole ‘nother level. His eyes grew wider and wider as he soaked in the sight, unable to find anything in his mind to compare it to. Past a sea of green plains stood grand city walls, stone and high as oak trees, circled the dense mess of buildings inside. From one side of the city to the other was at the absolute least was a mile, maybe longer. It was so far out Galen couldn’t make a good guess. Various columns of smoke as well as tufts of steam rose from different areas. Blacksmiths or alchemists’ shops, perhaps. The buildings were tall, too, some even taller than the walls.

It was beyond his expectations. Massive, sprawling, and beautiful. His legs couldn’t carry him there fast enough. Grinning, he took off toward the gates, hollering back at his companions to follow.

Seira smirked at his enthusiasm and stepped forward to follow him. Whatever he’d lost yesterday, he’d gotten back. She put a paw just above her stomach. That alien nausea still settled there, dull but constant like it might intensify at any moment. 

“Seira.”

She paused, directing her attention to Sybyll. “What is it?”

The tiniest pause hung in the air, the sort that one unconsciously leaves when taking a breath before speaking.

“I feel it too.”

**Chapter 9**

Wind rushing against him, Galen flew down the hill, grinning like a fool as he came to the city gates. He wanted to see everything all at once. His legs shook with anticipation, shaking off the weariness of his journey as if it was never there. Catching his breath, he started looking around. Directly ahead of him lay the gates, massive wooden doors of which one was open. Given their size, the trees that went into building them must’ve been huge. They stood as dark, sturdy and silent watchmen over the relatively-quiet area, though Galen could hear commotion beyond them. A small group of armored guards, about five, stood nearby, chatting with each other and keeping an eye on the surrounding area. To Galen’s right was a stable, empty at the moment but for a few clumps of hay and dried-up water troughs. He had expected there to be much more activity for the supposed population of the city. Maybe it was a slow time of day.

Seira and Sybyll came up behind him, Seira checking out the area just as Galen had and Sybyll keeping her eyes locked on the guards.

Stepping in front of Galen and turning to him, Seira pointed a thumb over her shoulder at the guards. “Word of warning. Getting in the city could be really simple or really difficult depending on their mood. Don’t provoke them.” She glanced behind herself. “And let’s hope they’re not the type who hate monsters.”

“Why would they hate monsters?”

“They don’t need a reason.” She gestured Galen forward. “You take the lead. They’ll probably be more amicable if they assume you’re the leader.”

He narrowed his eyes. “But I am the leader.”

Seira smirked. “Whatever you say.”

He shot her a stink-eye before striding forward, keeping his chest up and posture straight. He didn’t want the guards thinking he’d crumple over for anything, but he didn’t want to get on their nerves. Confident, but not arrogant. As he approached, the guards took notice. Three stepped back to continue their conversation while two turned to face Galen’s group. Galen got a better look at their armor. It didn’t look to be the finest craftsmanship, but it fit them and didn’t seem like it would fall apart any time soon. The guards wore a chestpiece and a backpiece connected by leather strips on their sides, spaulders, bracers, helmets, and shin guards. Only their thighs, armpits and necks were vulnerable to any sort of attack. Galen wished he had cool armor like that. His leather vest, cloth pants, and shirt didn’t do much to stop weapons.

One of the guards crossed his arms while the other grabbed his spear and planted the blunt end on the ground like a staff. The one with the spear shifted his mouth to the side, inspecting the newcomers with a careful eye before addressing them.

“What brings you to Fullsburg?”

Galen swallowed. He wasn’t very good with interrogations and was even worse at lying, so he told the truth. “We’re uh, looking for information.”

“What kind of information?” said the cross-armed guard.

“We’re trying to find Poseidon and a blacksmith.”

“Poseidon? Ain’t that the monster of the sea?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“What you need to find her for? Are one of your friends looking for her?” asked the guard with the spear, pointing behind Galen.

He glanced back at them. “Uh, well no, just me, actually. I was--wait, friends?”

“You don’t even know who’s with you? The lizardman and the manticore. Surprised to see a lizardman myself, they’ve about disappeared off the face of the earth.”

Sybyll and Galen exchanged glances. “Sorry, she’s just really quiet.” That was a good excuse, right? Galen pulled at his collar, feeling sweat on his neck. He hoped he wasn’t looking suspicious.

“Eh, whatever.” The spear guard pointed to Galen’s waist where his swords were. “You’re looking a little young for those, and you got two of ‘em. You lookin’ to start trouble?”

He rested a hand on the tip of Toneruth’s hilt. “N-no, sir. These are for protection. Lots of, um--monsters?--out there.”

“True enough.” Galen fought to keep from sighing in relief. He thought for sure the guard would ask to keep the swords.

The spear guard nudged his partner. “Got anything else?”

The guard crossing his arms nodded. “Yeah.” He pointed at Seira. “I heard manticores ain’t exactly the nicest bunch. Kidnapping men, suckin’ ‘em dry and leavin’ ‘em out on the streets to be robbed or worse.”

“You heard correct,” said Seira, straightening her back to look down at the guard. “But you have nothing to worry about from me.”

Galen felt like collapsing into a quivering mess of sweat. While Seira may not have been acting nervous, he had plenty of anxiety for the both of them. What if this guard hated monsters? What if he didn’t like how Seira looked at him? What if he provoked her? He bit his lower lip, looking between the guard and Seira.

“That true? What’s with that wing, there, then? You get into a lot of fights?”

She grimaced, glancing to her wing. “This is from several days back, and it was an accident.”

“Didn’t know manticores were so prone to accidents.” He looked her up and down, trying to find another mark to exploit.

“What if--“ the guard started, but his companion cut him off.

“Damnit, Alex, stop trying to make trouble. Last time we got in a fight at the gates over one of your stupid monster comments we lost a week’s pay. There’s nothing wrong with ‘em and the kid probably doesn’t even know how to fight.” The spear guard gently pushed his partner out of the way and waved Galen through. “Now don’t make me regret this, kid, cause there’s plenty room in the jails.”

“Y-y-yes, sir.” He wanted to defend his ability to fight, but caught between his nervousness and Seira’s warning about provoking them, he kept it to himself, instead walking timidly by the guards and through the great gates. Sybyll walked close behind, but Seira hung back a moment to shoot the paranoid guard a devious smile and a flick of her tail.

For the second time that day, Galen’s mouth hung open in awe. The buildings on either side of the street loomed with incredible height, some made of stone, though most were of wooden construction. Thatched rooftops covered about every building, though some had flat or angled wooden tops. The architecture was incredible, arches and intricate angles worked into various structures to give them an unique, appealing look. He looked down at the street, tapping it with his foot. Even the streets were relatively smoothed-out and much more durable than the plain dirt roads back home.

As for the inhabitants, besides a few stray looks, no one much seemed to care about the new arrivals. The majority of the population on the streets was human, some alone, some with a woman and others with monster girls. Most were wearing unique outfits, the cloth ones boasting particularly impressive stitching. Galen caught bits and pieces of at least a half dozen separate conversations. Only when his heart started to calm back down did the smell hit him, a mix of sweat and other wastes, far more concentrated than anything else of its kind he’d experienced. The stench bit into his enthusiasm, but only so much.

“So, what do you think?” said Seira, laying a paw on his shoulder.

“It’s so cool! I heard about building this big and streets like this, but seeing it is something else! And it’s so busy! There must be at least fifty people out in the street! That’s half of my entire village right there!” He clasped his hands together and turned to Seira. “Do you think they’re all friendly?”

“Ehh,” she said, rocking her head back and forth, “I wouldn’t start a conversation with a complete stranger if I were you. Things work different in a city like this.”

“Shucks.”

“We’ll have to find a place to sleep for the night before anything else. Might be able to get some clues on where we can find the information we’re here for as well.”

“Alright!” Galen pranced forward, bouncing through the street as he soaked up everything around him. 

He wanted to pick the first inn they came across, a flashy place right off the main street, but Seira said they should skip it. When he asked why, all she said was, “It looks off.”

The second one they came to, and the one Seira approved, lay on a side alley, the sign over the door reading, ‘The Rugged Boot’. Galen took a moment to adore the craftsmanship in the sign, its lettering rough but unique with a distinctive boot carved out and stained dark beneath the title. The door swung open with a creak, banging up against its guard when Galen tossed it the rest of the way open. Seira and Sybyll followed close behind, checking the area for anything suspicious. Galen was too busy fawning over the view to care.

The place was full of circular tables and chairs, stuffed so there was just enough room for a single person to maneuver through it. A thick scent of maple mixed with honey hung in the air. The activity from outside leaked in as muffled steps and distant conversations, less distinct than the mumbles from the people and monsters already inside. At the moment there weren’t many inhabitants. The few that were there had either passed out or were enjoying a drink or bite to eat. When Galen’s group walked in, they collected stares from everyone around, most ended up being directed at Sybyll. Seira drew her claws, but didn’t let herself tense up. Any stare sent her direction she met with equal intensity.

Galen, oblivious to his surroundings, walked right up to the counter ahead of him, slapping a hand down to get the attention of the burly man behind the it, and stated his intent.

“We’re here for a room!”

As Seira and Sybyll stepped forward, The innkeeper looked over the three of them. “Three guests?”

“That will not be necessary,” said Sybyll. “I do not sleep.”

The innkeeper shrugged. “Figures for the lizardman.” He held out his hand. “Two guests is one silver.”

“Oh, uhh…” Galen’s voice trailed off. Scratching his head, he gave the innkeeper a sheepish smile. “I didn’t really think about that.”

His face soured. “I don’t have time for games, kid. Pay or scram.”

Seira nudged Galen aside, laying a paw on the counter between them. “Surely we can work something out. An able-bodied man and monster must be able to do something for you.”

The innkeeper’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t know you. What sorta reason do I have to trust you?”

“We’re depending on you for a place to stay. Not only would we gain nothing from tricking you, but we could hardly run when you know where we sleep.” She set her other paw on the counter as well. “We’re simply looking for a mutually-beneficial arrangement.”

He rubbed his chin, looking back and forth between Seira and Galen. After a few seconds of consideration, he nodded. “I’ve got a pretty big crowd coming in late most of the time. If you stick around here, make sure no numbskulls make trouble after sunset, clean up after everyone’s gone, and make sure your room is spotless before you leave, then I’ll let you stay without paying.”

Seira leaned forward. “It may take us a little longer than a day to find what we’re looking for.”

“We’ll see how tonight goes. You do well enough, I’ll extend our deal. Good enough?”

She nodded. “That will work.”

After shaking on it, the innkeeper handed over a key and directed them to a room down a hallway and near the back of the building. Galen grumbled about not getting a room on the second floor, as he’d never been to the second floor of any building, but Seira pinched him, telling him they were lucky enough to make a deal.

As she opened the door to their room, Galen’s eyes lit up and he forgot all about the second floor. To the untrained eye, it was nothing more than your typical bedroom: a couple small beds, a nightstand, and a dresser. To Galen, however it was something else.

“So cool!”

Compared to his room back home, it was twice the size and the furnishings twice as nice. Everything was made of wood and stained so the rippled patterns stood out. The beds both had cozy mattresses and plain but durable blankets, as well as fluffy pillows resting against the headboards. Actual headboards! Galen ran his hands across the blankets, moaning in delight, then tossed himself on top of the bed and began rolling back and forth. It didn’t feel much more comfortable than his bed at home, but it was still much, much cooler. Next he grabbed the pillow and hugged it to his chest, grinning with eyes closed and humming to himself. So involved with his own little celebration he was that he lost track of how long the bed was and rolled straight off the end, hitting the floor with a considerable thud.

Seira took a step forward. “Are you okay?”

His grin returned and he let his arms flop out straight away from his body. With a sigh, he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “I love this place already.”

Seira walked over and held out a paw. “Let’s see if you’re still saying that tonight. We didn’t get this room in exchange for nothing.”

Galen grasped her paw and got to his feet, brushing his shirt and pants off before giving Seira a thumbs-up. “I’m not worried.”

“You should be.” She picked up the pillow on the ground and tossed it back on the bed. “I’m going to head out. There are a few things I want to look for myself here. I’ll keep an ear open for anything information on Poseidon or that blacksmith, too.”

Clasping his hands behind his back, Galen leaned toward Seira and gave her a toothy smile. “Oooh, is it a secret? Where are you going?”

“If it’s relevant to you, I’ll let you know. I’ll meet you back here at dusk.” She walked out of the room, waving before disappearing. “Bye.”

Galen peeked his head out the door, watching Seira walk out the front door, her tail hovering in the air behind her. She still kept her secrets. He wished she’d at least give him some clue or something, so he wouldn’t be so curious or worried about it. He wondered if it was a manticore thing. They’d been together for several days now, wasn’t that enough for her to trust him with her secrets? The lamia had nearly killed him, didn’t he have a right to know about why they were chasing her? Still, he told himself he wouldn’t pry and let her come forward when she chose to, so that’s what he would stick to.

Besides, he had something to ask Sybyll.

“So apparently people can see you now without having to touch Toneruth,” he said, turning to her.

Sybyll had walked over to the dresser and laid a hand on it, staring at the patterns in the wood while Galen had been busying watching Seira leave. On his statement, she shifted her attention away from the dresser to Galen. “Yes, it does seem that way.”

“That means I’m getting better with Toneruth and you, doesn’t it?”

“It is a result of increased synchronism with the blade, yes.”

Galen slumped his shoulders and let his arms hang limp. “Uugh, you make it sound so boring. It awesome, isn’t it?”

“It is a natural result of training and determination. It was bound to happen eventually.” She paused. “Though it may be a bit earlier than last time.”

Galen pumped a fist. “I knew it! I am that cool! Now c’mon, we need to find some information before dusk.”

They departed the inn and hit the streets. Galen was again struck with the awe of being in a city, though dulled this time. If he didn’t have any responsibilities, he would’ve gladly skipped around town, soaking in the sights and making a big deal out of everything, but that information came first. He wished Seira was with them, as she seemed to have an element of confidence in the city that Galen lacked due to ignorance, and Sybyll, while having been to a city before, didn’t have much in the way of tact. He started hunting for information with the most direct method, asking people on the street where he might find a good blacksmith and where Poseidon might be, but he ran into a problem. When asked about blacksmiths, he got several different answers, and when he asked about Poseidon, all he got were blank stares. Apparently the queen of the sea wasn’t as well-known as he thought.

With the names of all the blacksmiths in town, he made a trip to each smithy, asking if they knew how to craft a magic sword or if they knew someone who could. Only one blacksmith had the skills, but in further questioning Galen found he hadn’t learned it from a master of the trade, but rather books. He admitted with a blush on his face that he had nowhere near the skill to touch anything old or advanced. Galen thanked him for his time and went back to asking on the streets. After an hour of walking around the city, drilling those two same questions and getting nowhere, he thought his search had hit a wall.

The next person he approached was a tall man in a dark coat, leaning against a wall, watching the streets with his arms crossed. He hovered just out of the eyes of typical passer-by, keeping to himself. Instead of clinging to the shadows, however, it appeared as it the shadows clung to him. Galen figured someone looking that mysterious had to know something. When he approached the man and asked his two typical questions, however, he received not an answer or a blank stare, but another question.

“That a lizardman you’ve got with you?”

Galen raised an eyebrow, looking to Sybyll then back to the man. “Yes?”

“Hmm. And you’re looking for a good blacksmith and Poseidon.” He grabbed the cuff of his coat and straightened it out. “Well, if you were looking for a local blacksmith, I’d have figured you’d already investigated them, that right?”

“That’s… right…” Galen’s cocked his head, unsure of what the man was getting at.

“Well, I don’t have the information you want, but I can get you in touch with the person who does. You just need to bring that lizardman with you and be willing to answer a few questions yourself.”

Galen’s face lit up. “Really? That’s great! Where are we going?”

The shadowed man shook his head. “Woah, there, kid. I’ve got to ask if the boss is willing to meet with you. I’ve got a good feeling she will, but I can’t speak for her. Come back here tomorrow morning, I’ll tell you if she’s decided to meet you or not and we’ll go from there.”

“Okay, can do!”

Now back in high spirits, Galen hopped away, wondering where he could go next now that his business had been taken care of. There were still plenty of shops he hadn’t visited, and he wanted to go to the second story of a building for sure before leaving. He remembered his father telling him about bustling markets and auctions in his stories--he definitely wanted to see one of those if at all possible. The city might have interesting events like festivals or competitions, too. From where Galen stood, the possibilities were endless! Something still bugged him, though.

Galen turned around and began walking backwards to face Sybyll while he talked. “I wonder why that guy wanted you to come along.”

“I believe you have just enlisted the help of an information trader.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you are very likely to get the information you want, but the trader will want information in exchange or something else of equivalent value. Should you not have such information, you will be denied. Or worse.”

His walking slowed. “Worse?”

“Information traders do not take kindly to being fed false information.”

“I just won’t lie, then.”

She shook here head. “It is not that simple. How do you know everything you know?”

Jerking his head back, Galen gave Sybyll a confused look. “What kind of question is that?”

“It means--“ She cut herself off, running up to Galen to grab his shoulder and stop him.

“Woah!” He was about to ask why she stopped him when he turned around and saw he’d been about to walk into a horse-drawn cart. The man in the cart, a stout man without much hair, squawked at Galen for being an idiot, checking cart’s cargo before turning back to the road. Scratching his neck, Galen gave Sybyll a guilty grin. “Guess I shouldn’t walk backwards, huh?”

“I should’ve thought that self-evident,” she said, grilling him with that cold gaze of hers. She picked up her explanation and started walking again after the cart went by. “As I was saying, you know what you from either seeing it, hearing about it, or deducing it, correct?”

“Yup!”

“Of those, none are truly reliable. Hearing something from someone else relies on their information. If it is flawed, then the flaw passes on to your knowledge. If you deduce something, you are determining an event’s probable, logical cause, but you cannot know if your explanation is correct.. Your eyes are likely the most trustworthy, but magic can still create illusions to deceive you. Do you understand what I am getting at?”

He cupped his chin, looking at the ground. “Uhhh, are you saying there’s more than what meets the eye?”

“That is… part of it,” conceded Sybyll with a slight nod. “However, you must acknowledge your own flaws and gaps when it comes to knowledge. For example, that cart you almost ran into, what do you know about it?”

“I saw a man delivering,” he paused, thinking back to what was in the cart. A red fruit. Apples? Probably. “A man delivering apples!”

“No. You do not know that.”

Galen gestured back to the spot where the incident occurred. “But I just saw it!”

“No, you did not. Tell me exactly what you saw.”

He frowned, but answered anyways. “I saw an angry man on a cart delivering a bunch of apples.”

“No, you did not.”

Seizing his hair, Galen groaned. “What do you want me to answer? That’s what I saw!”

Sybyll held up a finger. “Consider what I just told you about flaws and gaps in knowledge. Assume nothing. Tell me exactly what you saw and nothing more.”

“I saw… hmmm… I saw a horse-drawn cart with apples in it and an angry man.”

“Much closer. But not quite. You are unconsciously deducing still.” She glanced behind them. “You saw a man, driving a cart drawn by a horse with something red in it. He also yelled at you. That is all you absolutely know for sure, assuming no illusions were present.”

Galen crossed his arms. “So you’re trying to say it’s easy for me to make assumptions that aren’t true.”

“And it’s even easier to believe those assumptions strongly enough to defend them fiercely, even when you have no proof you are correct. That man may not be delivering those red objects at all. He may have stolen the cart and is taking the cargo home. He might not have been angry at you, but rather has a loud voice and is used to talking to people in that manner. You cannot know for sure.”

“And because I can’t know for sure, I have to be careful about what I tell the information trader. Even if I think something is true, it might only be a false conclusion.”

“Exactly. It would be unfortunate if my master came upon ill circumstances so soon after acquiring Tellus.”

“Aww, you do care about me!” Galen slapped her on the back. “That’s what I figured, with people being able to see you now.”

“What did I just tell you about assumptions?”

Grinning like a fool, Galen wagged his finger at Sybyll. “Heh heh heh, but I don’t think this one’s wrong.”

When Sybyll looked back at him, he could swear he saw the faintest hint of an exasperated frown. “I feel as if you are being difficult on purpose.” Looking up, she pointed. “There, the inn. It is nearly sundown and we have an arrangement to honor with the innkeeper.”

Galen slumped over, checking the sun’s position. “Man, I wanted to see more of the city. Guess it’ll have to wait till tomorrow.”

They walked to the inn, Galen stepping inside first. Before he had even let go of the door handle, he froze in place.

Three large, intimidating, and very familiar lamia were inside, sitting around a table, talking amongst themselves.

His blood turned to ice.

**Chapter 10**

It took considerable willpower for Galen to wrench the anchors that were his feet off the inn floor and back outside, almost slamming the door behind himself. He looked at Sybyll, already panting from fear, and grabbed her by her shoulders.

“They’re here!” His voice came out a squeak.

Sybyll didn’t react but for a blink. “Who?”

“The lamia! The ones that were chasing me and Seira!” He seized her hand and ran around to the side of the inn, a dark alley just wide enough for the two of them. After checking to make sure they weren’t followed, Galen grabbed Sybyll’s shoulders again. “This is bad, bad, bad! If they see either me or Seira, we’re in big trouble. Last time…”

“Last time what?”

“It wasn’t pretty. We’ll have to get out of here as soon as we find Seira.” He began tapping his foot. “Where is she, anyways? It’s about sunset, she should be back by now? Man, if she stumbles into those lamia, I don’t know what’ll happen. I was so close, too! So close to finding out where to go next, what to do. I thought we’d lost those lamia and were going to have a chance to actually relax.” He bit his nails, looking back and forth, hoping the lamia didn’t pop up and trying to figure out where best to hide.

Sybyll seized him by his collar, yanked him up to her face and said, calmly, “Stop panicking.”

So caught off guard Galen was that it took him a few seconds to acknowledge her statement. This was the first time he’d seen Sybyll get worked up. Over anything. “Uh, uh, yes. If you say so.”

“No. Not if I say so. Do it because there is nothing to panic about.”

“But back in the inn--“

“--Are three lamia that do not know either you or Seira are here and do not recognize me. In fact, this gives you quite an advantage: the element of surprise. That alone can keep you hidden if used correctly. Should you end up in a fight with them, that may also be enough to win.” She set Galen back down. “It is your choice on how to use it, but worrying about it excessively will do you no good.”

“Heh,” blushing, Galen looked away like he’d just been scolded by his mother. What was he thinking? Adventurers don’t freak out at seeing an enemy, they puff out their chest with pride and charge in! Challenges were supposed to be exciting and teach valuable lessons, not scare him away. How could he call himself any sort of hero if he ran away from this? Now was a time for rational thinking more than ever, yet he’d gone and about wet his pants over the mere sight of an enemy. Putting a hand to his chest, he took several deep breaths, feeling the humid summer air enter his mouth and spread through his lungs.

Priorities. What was his top priority right now? Sybyll said they could use the element of surprise, so he had to make sure they kept it. That meant keeping Seira from stumbling into the lamia.

“Okay, Sybyll, you go to the front, stay by that door. If you see Seira, tell her to come around back. I think I saw a back door near our room, so I’ll stand by the back door and watch for her. If you see the lamia leave, let me know.”

The corners of her mouth curled up the tiniest amount, so subtle Galen almost missed it. “Very well.”

He hurried back to the rear of the inn, finding a back door just as he expected. The area surprisingly stank less than the street, a dim, quiet area with impressions of cart wheels all over the dirt. The innkeeper probably brought things around back here for storage and to keep business traffic out of the way of customers. Leaning up against the wall, his foot started tapping on its own. Despite the mental pep-talk, he still jittered at the lack of noise and activity, waiting for someone to burst out the back door even if there was no good reason for them to do so. He crossed his arms, keeping his ears open for any movement from insides, but all he heard were distant conversations.

If the lamia discovered them, they’d be in trouble for sure. Seira had told him they couldn’t afford to fight the lamia, and even if her wing was nearly healed, it would still be a two-versus-three situation. Sybyll could do no more than offer words of encouragement. What he wouldn’t give to have her sword arm at his disposal. A thousand-odd years of experience would be invaluable. It’s possible they could use the city layout to their advantage. The alleyways would keep the lamia from surrounding them, though it would remove Seira’s flight advantage. If they ended up fighting in the city, though, the guards would be after them, and he doubted they’d care who started it after the entryman gave him that warning.

His foot tapping grew louder. Where was she? Galen didn’t take Seira as one to be late, especially with their obligation to the innkeeper. Just as he pushed off the wall and began pacing, the sound of footsteps emerged from the alley. He turned to face them, finding Seira and Sybyll.

“Seira!”

He rushed over, looking down the alleyway behind them before moving his attention back to her. “Those lamia are in the inn!”

Her frown darkened her face. “I heard.”

“As long as they’re there, we won’t be able to guard the place like we said we would. Our agreement with the innkeeper is in jeopardy!”

“I realized that as well. However,” she said, turning to Sybyll, “those lamia won’t recognize you and the innkeeper knows you’re with us. If you went in there to stand guard instead of us, we would still be fulfilling our obligation.”

“I would be of little use if a fight actually broke out,” said Sybyll.

“Then don’t let one start.”

Sybyll sighed, turning back to Galen. “She is correct. I could fulfill the obligation without letting the lamia know of your presence. I believe I could keep things under control as well.”

“Shouldn’t we, uh, tell the innkeeper? He’ll probably be wondering about us. He was expecting a manticore and a human, not a lizardman.”

Seira scoffed. “The way lizardmen are spoken of, I think he’ll be happier with this. I knew they were scarce, but people around here act like they’re extinct.”

Galen saw Sybyll glance in Seira’s direction, but she didn’t comment. He was about to when Sybyll spoke up.

“I will inform him that you two will not be here and stand guard until the lamia depart. Once they are gone, I will fetch the two of you.”

Galen and Seira nodded.

“We’ll stay back here. It would be just as bad if we ran into them out in the streets,” said Galen.

“Good. Until later,” said Sybyll, and disappeared into the inn.

Galen collapsed up against the wall, a loud sigh sloughing out of his mouth as he crumpled into a mess on the ground. “I think I’m going to have a heart attack.”

Seira flicked a tuft of his hair out of his face and sat down next to him, nestling close enough for him to feel the warm fur on her arm. “I thought you liked adventure. That’s all this is, you know. Another adventure.”

“This isn’t an adventure, it’s pure terror. Do you know how fast my heart was beating when I first saw them?”

She smirked. “No, but I can guess.”

“Way too fast!” He leaned his head back on the wall, looking up at the sky peeking down at them between the rooftops of the buildings above. “Last time we ran into the lamia you certainly weren’t this relaxed. Why aren’t you concerned?”

“Oh, I’m concerned.” She leaned forward on her paw, giving Galen a face that completely contradicted her last statement. “But I trust Sybyll to carry out her task without trouble. There is no chance worth worrying over that the lamia will find us tonight, and we know they are here. Puts us at quite an advantage, don’t you think?”

Closing his eyes, he drew a breath, the lingering scent of honey filling his nostrils. “Sybyll said the same thing earlier.”

Seira and Sybyll both hadn’t panicked. They understood the situation and remained level-headed the entire time. Galen was the only one to lose his cool and would’ve made a show of it had Sybyll not calmed him down. He was supposed to be the leader, but he certainly wasn’t acting one right now. They had experience over him, yes, but that didn’t excuse such a blunder on his part. What if the situation had been more dire? What if Sybyll had not had the chance to calm him?

Galen drew his teeth back and forth, clenching his jaw as hard as he could. One of these times, he’d make a mistake and there wouldn’t be someone to cover for him. Stewing over his mistakes wouldn’t do him any more good. What he needed to do was remain vigilant, prevent himself from making the same mistake twice. Right now what he needed was information.

“Do you know why they’re here?” he asked Seira.

Silence. He shook his head. He should’ve expected that.

“What did you do while you were gone?”

She slouched, resting her arms on her knees and looking upward. “I heard something I knew, but did not want to hear. That is all.”

This time, when his curiosity clawed at his tongue, it singed his mouth like fire, desperate to escape, but once again he choked it down. His decision was made in that regard. No prying.

They sat in the alley as the sun dipped beneath the horizon, light slowly fading in their hiding place. Flickering light from the street snuck in the alleyways, torches being lit along the storefronts and residences. Galen watched the activity out in the street through his little window of the alley. Fewer and fewer people and monsters wandered the streets and the frequency of guards passing by increased. Most of the noise of the night came from inside. Galen heard reckless conversations, boasts, roars of laughter and even the tantalizing whisper of music. He buried his face in his arms, imagining Sybyll standing near the counter, hand on her sword, watching the crowd with that passive stare of hers, occasionally meeting an angry glare or curious glance from the crowd.

He couldn’t make out if there were fights or not. For the duration of his wait, there were hoots and hollers coming from inside but no sign of Sybyll. He reached out for the back door, about to peek inside to satiate his curiosity, but thought better of it. When he shifted in his spot, he brushed up against Seira’s fur, making him jerk his head toward her. He’d forgotten she was right there. Reaching out, he ran his hand along the fur on her arm, letting it tingle his fingers. Seira and Galen both wordlessly watched his hand as it moved. It came to rest on the back of her paw where he dug his fingers into the comforting fur.

“You can say it now,” he said, still staring at his hand.

Seira moved her gaze to his face. “But are you sure you want to hear it?”

“Want to? No. I want to think I’ve never been wrong. I know I make mistakes, but what happened at the bridge is one thing I don’t want to believe I’m wrong about. But what good will ignorance do me? I think I need to hear it.”

He looked up, meeting her gaze. Her face held something familiar, something he’d seen only twice before but remembered in vivid detail. Her eyebrows slanted inward as subtly as her mouth curled upward, her cheeks dimpled a touch, and her eyes cut through him with a serenity that, deep down, scared him. Their piecing red glowed even in the weak light.

“I’ve given it some thought and I’m sure you have as well. The truth of the matter is…”

Galen cringed. Here it comes.

“…I don’t want to see you stop.”

He choked on the following silence, staring at Seira, unable to move a muscle. “See me stop?”

“You’re wrong, Galen. In so many ways. Reckless, weak, and blissfully ignorant, you charge into situations that would make experienced people and monsters laugh at you. Even when you come out of the situation in one piece, you do it in such a callous manner it’s hard to take you seriously. You sacrifice far too much for your silly principles when all it would take is a simple compromise with reality to come out on top. I will continue to fight your foolishness at every turn and try to get the thought into that thick skull of yours that things are not as straight-forward as you would wish.” She seized his shirt, wrenching his face toward hers. “But don’t you DARE stop trying. Keep fighting for the stupid things. Prove me wrong.” Her paw clenched tighter. “Your idealism doesn’t belong in this world, but I wish it did. So don’t let go of it. Not yet.”

All he could do was stare and blink. Keep fighting for the stupid things? Don’t let go of it? Earlier she’d been telling him to grow up, to discard those principles. Why did she change her mind? All this distress over who was right and whether or not Galen would have to throw away all he’d learned in youth, and it turns out Seira was the one to concede?

“I don’t understand. You were saying the exact opposite the other day. What’s gotten into you?”

She released him and placed a paw above her stomach, looking down at it and smiling. “Manticores don’t really have much of one, but I think it was whatever was left of my conscience.”

“But don’t you think--"

A cough came from the back door, grabbing their attention. Sybyll stared down at them, her face blank.

“The lamia have departed. You may come inside.”

Seira and Galen exchanged glances then hopped up, each brushing the dirt off themselves. Galen watched Seira, mouth quivering with more to say, but couldn’t keep himself to speak. He opened the back door for Seira who nodded to him as she walked inside. Sybyll took the rear and they marched up to the counter.

The place hadn’t emptied yet, but it was far from busy. Galen couldn’t tell for sure how long Seira and him had been out behind the inn, but it couldn’t have been less than a couple hours. The remaining patrons mumbled their speech for the most part, drowning in whatever drinks the innkeeper had been providing, though one group in the corner still yapped loud enough for Galen to make out what they were saying. The air was thick with a mix of alcohol and body odor. Jealousy stung at Galen, but this wasn’t the time for drinking, not with those lamia about. Every table was smeared with something. Galen guessed spilt alcohol.

The innkeeper greeted them with a question, his rough voice scratchy. Probably from yelling all night. “Eh, where you two been?”

“Waiting,” said Seira. “Didn’t Sybyll explain our situation?”

“The lizardman? All she said was you wouldn’t be here. You’re lucky I had a good night and I’m in the mood to deal with sudden changes of plan like that, else you’d have been kicked out the second I laid eyes on you again.” He grinned. “Things may have worked out better this way, though. Lizardmen can attract all sorts of attention, and for me any attention is just fine. I’d ask why you two had to disappear all a sudden, but something tells me it’s trouble I don’t want a part of.” He pointed to the tables. “You still gotta clean all this up. Everything you’ll need is back there,” he said, thumbing to a door behind the counter. “When I’ve got only one or two guys left in here, I’ll kick ‘em out and you can start.”

Galen spent the next hour leaning up against the wall near Seira and Sybyll, doing his best to look intimidating with his two swords, but deep down he had the feeling Seira and Sybyll did a much better job without even trying. After that, just as promised, the innkeeper kicked out the stragglers and set Seira and Galen to work. Seira set about her task without much precision, but she didn’t slack, either. Galen tried to put his spirit into it, but after five tables and a mess of chairs, his arms were starting to ache. The throbbing reminded him briefly of his escapade under the bridge and the burning of his exhausted limbs.

The task took time and effort, but fortunately didn’t involve running away from orcs or fighting lamia, so Seira and Galen finished without incident. Galen thrust out his chest on the way back to their room, smiling to himself over a job well done.

He collapsed onto his bed, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. The other bed creaked and groaned as Seira sat down on it. Sybyll stood in the doorway, watching the two relax.

“It’s been a long day,” Galen muttered into his pillow.

“It has been,” said Seira. “Did you get anywhere with your search?”

“Sorta.” He rolled over onto his back. “We’re seeing an information trader tomorrow.”

Seira arched her eyebrows. “Wow. Not exactly the method I’d expect from you, but it’ll certainly get the job done. What are you offering?”

He pointed to Sybyll. “Apparently they’re interested in Sybyll. I don’t exactly know what for, though. I guess with all I’ve been hearing about lizardmen being super-rare, the information trader probably wants to know why.”

“Would you even be able to answer that?” Seira asked Sybyll.

“I can make a guess, but I would not be able to give a definite answer. I have been gone the last four hundred years and have not lived with my kind for a thousand.”

“Then you’ll have to hope that’s not what they want to see her for,” Seira told Galen.

He put his hands behind his head, smiling at the ceiling. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  
**

  
Galen stood tall, his face severe, holding his sword out in front of him. He held his gaze forward, listening to his surroundings, taking in the whistle of wind, the thumping of his heart, and the rasp each breath made as it left his mouth. A cool breeze tingled his skin, though he fought back the shivers. Out in his backyard, there were no trees to block the spring wind.

In an explosion of strength, he drew the sword back and slashed downward, pulling back just before the sword struck ground. 

“Shoulders, Galen, shoulders! You can’t get power behind your swing if you don’t keep your shoulders straight!”

“But Faltho never told us anything about keeping our shoulders straight,” said Galen, letting his sword’s tip touch the ground.

“Because he doesn’t know how to use a sword as well as he thinks he does.” Galen’s father walked over, taking Galen’s hands and the hilt of his sword and bringing them back up. “Now show me your posture again.”

Steeling his face, Galen brought the sword up at an angle and straightened his shoulders, staring into the distance as his father scrutinized his stance. Galen’s father made small adjustments, tweaking his ankles, his elbows, and the angle of his sword, but ultimately stepped back and nodded with approval.

“Alright, that’s good for a starting posture, now try to swing again without losing it.”

Galen nodded then took a deep breath, imagining an enemy directly in front of him, then struck. His swing came down on the diagonal, meant to land right at the base of the neck. He made sure to lock his shoulders this time, but on the downswing he lost his balance. His rear foot came up from its anchor point and Galen had to step forward to keep from falling over. He grimaced to himself. He still couldn’t control the momentum of the sword and keeping his shoulders locked only made it harder.

“Better, but still needs work. Let’s keep practicing.”

“Alright.”

He swing again and again, each time different from the last. Sometimes he’d forget his shoulders but control the swing, other times he’d remember his shoulders but slacken his posture. Each failure frustrated him further, his frown growing deeper and deeper. His father didn’t say much, watching and giving an occasional tip. After what felt like the thousandth failure, Galen’s arms gave out and the sword fell to the ground.

“I wish I could just beat swordfighting like a monster and never have to worry about it again,” Galen grumbled.

Crouching down, Galen’s father held his son’s shoulders. “Victory is not final! It never is. Defeat will come at you every day. Even if you master this, there will be something else to learn, whether it be about swordfighting or life in general. Defeat will seek you out, and it will wear on you. It will not be easy to push it back time after time after time. But you will do it! The only thing you must discover for yourself is why.”

“Because you told me to.” Galen shot his father a smile.

He smiled back, patting Galen on the head. “That is a good reason, but one day you will need something more.” Standing up, he headed back for their house.

Galen stumbled back, holding his crotch. Something felt funny about it. He tried to push away the sensation, but it only grew stronger. He looked up for his father, but he was long gone, leaving Galen alone in the yard. A wave of cold crashed over his body, making him stiffen, followed immediately by a rush of warmth centered on his crotch. He fell to his knees, pushing his hands further into his crotch, trying to calm the powerful sensations, but nothing seemed to work. What was going on?

The scene began to fade, slowly losing detail. The grass blurred into a shade of green. His house turned into a smudge of brown. The sky bled into the ground. He tried again to get to his feet, but was struck with another wave of intense sensations, forcing him to lose his balance.

His head struck ground and everything went black… but he didn’t lose consciousness. Quite the opposite, in fact. He felt cool around his waist, like someone had poured water on him. His ears picked up a repetitive squelching sound, smooth and subtle, but definitely there. When his brain finally tossed of the haze of drowsiness, he opened his eyes.

He almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. His eyes widened as far as they would go and his mouth dropped open. Atop his body, riding his waist, was a constantly flowing red slime. She’d formed herself into a shapely woman, slightly shorter than Galen, with a perfectly smooth surface except for near where her hands rested on her legs. There her body lost some of its form, drooping off down her thick thighs to flow down to the floor. Her breasts were in flux. On each thrust forward, they would expand to an impressive size, putting even Seira to shame, but when she pulled back, they’d shrink to the point they were almost unnoticeable. Instead of the typical form of hair, on this slime’s head was something more like long appendages, each thicker than Galen’s wrist and long enough to reach all the way to her thighs. Galen looked at her face: a small, cute, and round face that couldn’t have looked severe even with the darkest of grimaces.

It was about that time the slime opened her eyes, realizing Galen had woken. She gasped, covering her mouth with a hand, but didn’t stop riding Galen as if her hips had a mind of their own. He opened his mouth to speak, but an additional arm grew out of the slime’s shoulder and launched itself towards Galen’s mouth, stopping him before he got a word out.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to wake up during this. I just needed to feed and I was going to go away again. Please, I’m sorry. I’ll be gone as soon as I take what I need.” Her face softened as she spoke, a subtle pain in her eyes.

Galen turned to the other bed in the room, surprised all this commotion hadn’t woken Seira, but it turned out she wasn’t there at all. The slime had picked the perfect time to strike. With a grunt, he tried wrenching the slime off of him, but she was stuck fast. Through her slime body flowed smoothly over his skin, any attempt to push her off made her stick like glue. He took a swipe at her, but other arms burst out of her body, clinging to his arms and pinning them to the bed. Her tentacle-like hair coiled around his legs and pinned them as well.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want it to end up like this. Please just come,” she pleaded.

Galen’s eyes bulged as a plethora of new sensations assaulted his cock. Multiple vaginas in addition to the one Galen was already buried in formed and clamped onto his shaft, pumping him all in different rhythms. Two whirlpools of slime churned around his member, one clockwise and the other counterclockwise. In addition to that, the slime reached into her stomach with one hand and began stroking him lengthwise. She devoted everything she knew to extracting his orgasm as quickly as possible. Galen could hardly see what was going on, her body was churning so violently. When Galen cried out in pleasure into the muffling slime hand over his mouth, slime shot down his throat and made him choke back in surprise.

The pleasure was staggering. Restrained as he was, all Galen could do was writhe and moan, though each utterance only prompted the slime to molest his mouth further. Like a sloppy kiss, her hand played with his tongue and massaged his cheeks. The pussies on his member seized up all at once, making Galen bite down from the jolt of rapture and thrust his hips up into the slime. She cooed in delight, now that his body had begun to respond, and rode him harder. The arms holding his arms and upper body squeezed him and the slime’s smile grew from delight to pure ecstasy. Whether the slime was forcing him to move or his body was moving on its own, Galen wasn’t sure, but his hips had matched her thrusts perfectly.

His defenses shattered, Galen erupted into the slime, gasping as she won her first orgasm. White-hot pleasure lit up his shaft, driving him to a desperate thrust deep into her. She looked inside her body, watching his helpless manhood spurt again and again, taking note of how much he released, never stopping her barrage of pleasure. The white cloud of cum slowly dissolved at her whim. When he finally stopped, she shook her head, looking once more to his face.

“Sorry, that wasn’t enough. You’ll need to come again.”

Her tone didn’t match her ferocity at all. She spoke like a humble maid, as if apologizing for missing a chore, but her body moved as if frenzied, hammering Galen with wave after wave of motions with the express intent of making him come.

Her thighs clamped onto him tighter, her body began flowing faster and her actions quickened, though she never lost composure. Galen’s resistance was nothing more than a minor obstacle to her, one she would shatter with her skilled and adaptive body. Something new attached to his cock and began sucking, like a mouth with strong lips that never needed to pause for breath. The slime’s eyes pleaded with Galen to give in, her mouth fluctuating between an even line and a delirious smile. The new appendage sucked relentlessly to the point Galen felt it might draw his entire body into it. The slime frowned, having expected him to give in already, and began pumping her hand faster.

He squirmed, squinting his eyes shut, trying to hold on against the torrent of pleasures the slime assaulted him with: the many pair of nether lips pumping his member, the delicate but firm grasp of her palm and fingers, the cool, conflicting currents of her body caressing his length, and finally that incredible suction. When he focused on the suction, images and feelings of Seira’s tail came to mind.

Gritting his teeth, Galen gave one last, mighty thrust into the slime, coming once again into her greedy body. Pleasure shocked his entire body all at once, making him tense every single muscle in bliss. The slime made sure to draw out as much as possible, synchronizing her stimulations to pull away from him. After enough bursts for Galen to lose count in his ravaged state, he slumped back onto the bed, praying the slime was done. She withdrew her hand from her stomach, patting it with a gentle smile on her face.

“Thank you. Please accept my apology for allowing things to happen this way. I would not have done so had I had any other choice. You have my gratitude.” She sighed, her body again thrusting into Galen. Her slime somehow forced him hard again, even through he was sure there was nothing left to give. “I’ll have to keep doing this until you pass out. I can’t risk you alerting anyone else.” Reaching down, she pushed Galen’s hair away from his eyes. “Don’t worry, you won’t be harmed. In fact, I will make sure it feels wonderful.”

The way she spoke and the efficiency of her movements made Galen smile. He wasn’t sure he even cared any more. This time, she didn’t use any special tricks, just rocking back and forth on his member, allowing the tight passage she created to squeeze him lovingly on each thrust. He already felt his eyes drooping and would have drifted off within minutes had a very sudden interruption not broken both their concentrations.

The door burst open, revealing Seira, her eyes fixed on the slime.

She did not look happy.

**Chapter 11**

With a roar that could’ve come from a lion, Seira soared across the room and swiped the slime’s head clear off. The slime residue spewed over the bed and floor with a splat. Before Seira’s first strike was even complete, however, the slime began to re-form. Galen found the hair tentacles on his legs had turned to formless goo and attempted to use his partial freedom to knock the rest of the slime’s body off of him. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a good angle and couldn’t do more than deliver a weak knee to its back. Furthermore… her body was still gyrating over his cock with liquid motions. Either the slime’s body was too shocked to stop what it had already been doing, or it didn’t care enough about Seira to stop fucking him.

Not giving the slime time to recover, Seira took another swipe at her body, this time shearing off her shoulders. Seira’s roar was primal. Animal. Neither monster nor human. With the slime’s shoulder’s gone, all the arms securing Galen degenerated into goo just as her hair did. Grunting, he grabbed the slime as best he could by her hips and yanked her off while turning his body to the side. She fell, wordless, to the ground and struck it with a sound not unlike a wet rag. Galen momentarily regretted forcing her off, his dick still stiff and sensitive, but he quickly pulled his trousers back up and hopped off the bed. Seira ran over to the fallen slime and began stomping her body, growling out words with each rise and fall of her paw.

“I… told… you… not… to… touch… him!”

Galen’s attention darted back and forth between the battered slime and Seira, his face becoming more pained with each stomp. Surely this was enough? The slime wasn’t exactly trying to kill him. He ran up and grabbed Seira’s shoulder.

“Enough! She’s defeated!”

Seira spun toward him and snarled. This wasn’t the Seira he knew. Her eyes glowed with a fiery anger, unabated and wild. “It’s a slime. You can’t trust slimes. I made the mistake of giving her the benefit of the doubt for one little thing and she can’t even stick to that!” She turned back around and gave the slime another stomp. “I can’t believe I even gave you that much!”

Galen grabbed her leg before she could stomp again. “Wait! Stop! You won! Just let her leave!”

Seira’s fury snapped to Galen. She seized his shirt and lifted him up off the ground, gnashing her teeth loud enough for him to hear. “And what’ll that do? She’ll just come find you again and she might not stop with just a little meal. Red slimes are the worst of them--smart enough to know when and how to strike. Did you know that out of all the monsters in the world, there are only two that will absolutely, in every case, attack and milk a man when the situation arises? and that slimes are one of them? Of course you don’t.” She tossed Galen back onto the bed and resumed her slime smashing. “I’m going to destroy her body until she’s forced to show her core, then I’ll destroy that, too.”

Galen immediately got back to his feet. “Think about what you’re saying! You’re going to KILL another monster? Over what? Doing what she has to to survive? When did my well-being become important enough to you to warrant that?”

Her ears fell from their normal perky position almost to the point they touched the sides of her head. “W-what?” Blushing, she attempted to keep the fury in her voice, but her stutter betrayed her. Her paw stopped stomping as well. “I’m just doing this because she’s shown she can’t be trusted! I warned her!”

He crossed his arms. He’d struck something with her. He had to keep on the offensive, at least give the slime time enough to re-form and run. “So this isn’t the first time you’ve spoken with her? The first time you’ve met? And you talked about me?”

Galen noticed her hand-paws clenching shut and her eyes darting about the room. “Once. Briefly. And I told her not to hurt anyone in our group!”

Standing on his tip-toes, Galen leaned in, narrowing his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me about it?”

His attempt to intimidate her by standing up taller backfired. She was still naturally taller, and shown a physical challenge like that, Seira couldn’t back down. She put her paws on her hips and leaned back into Galen, her ears pointing upright once more. “Because exposing her right then would’ve given her a chance to woo you with words. The only way for us to be able to trust her for sure was if she showed she was worthy of trust, and I’d say she failed that little test quite spectacularly!”

He pushed his face forward until their foreheads and noses met. Even after the ordeal of sex with that slime, he felt fired up and ready to take on Seira. “She deserves a chance to explain and defend herself!”

“She’s a slime!”

“And you’re a manticore! What does it matter?”

Her eyes went cold and her mouth twisted from anger to disgust. She pushed Galen back down onto the bed and pointed a single extended claw at him. “You are only getting away with that because you’re ignorant. Never put me--or even my species--on the same level as a slime again.”

“What do you have against slimes?”

Galen surprised himself. Under the wrath of Seira’s frigid glare and icy tone, he expected himself to wither up and nod, not shoot a question back at her.

“They’ll attack monsters when it suits their needs. They’re masters of deception and even assassins that use their body to get places no other monster can. They drain and kill men needlessly when the supply is already stagnating. And, as I already told you, they can’t be trusted. I gave her a chance, I really did. Even though I knew it would end up like this.” She crossed her arms, looking down to the slowly-moving slime residue on the floor below. There wasn’t much left of her.

Were slimes really that bad? Galen hadn’t heard much about specific monsters, but from what he knew about slimes he thought they were just like any other monster: they find men and rape them. Did they have such a terrible reputation? Was it warranted?

He frowned, shaking his head. No. What had Sybyll just told him yesterday? He was hearing this knowledge, so any flaws in Seira’s knowledge would be passed on to him, even if she didn’t realize there was a flaw. The only way he could know for sure was if he witnessed the acts of slimes for himself.

A gurgling rose from the space behind him. Seira’s eyes locked onto it, narrowing as another guttural growl rumbled from her throat. She drew back a paw and bent her knees, ready to pounce, but Galen stood in her way, shaking his head.

“I’m going to give her a chance to speak.”

Seira snorted, but let up. “You’re making a mistake.”

“At least it’s my mistake to make.”

With a scoff, Seira walked back to her bed and plopped herself down, keeping her eyes on the slime as it took it’s complete form. “I’ll be watching, and if I’m not satisfied, she’ll pay.”

Galen shot Seira a fierce a look as he could muster, then looked to the slime, now back in her usual form. She wasn’t all that intimidating as she stood, a couple inches shorter than Galen with a face more for cute smiles than nasty sneers. Her tentacle hair stuck together and bunched up at the tip, the ends playing with each other as the slime herself played with her fingertips. Biting her lower lip, she looked back and forth between Seira and Galen, not sure who to speak to. Eventually, she turned to Galen but kept an eye on Seira.

“Seira is scary.”

Just like that, all the tension melted from Galen. Even as Seira growled behind him, he had to fight to keep from laughing, covering his growing smile while trying to keep his eyes firm and serious. He forced himself to cough, then nodded. “Yes, she can be scary sometimes. But I think she has a good reason to. You have some explaining to do. Seira said she’s already spoken with you--warned you--about attacking anyone in our group. Is that true?”

She kept fiddling with her fingers, turning her head to the side. “Yes… she told me not to do anything to you.”

To him? Specifically? He glanced over his shoulder to Seira, considering asking her why him, but thought better of poking the beehive. Her cheeks were flushed red and her eyes were aimed to the floor. She must’ve been furious.

“And how long have you been following us?”

“Well, I haven’t really been following you, per se, but riding along.”

“’Riding along?’”

Seira spoke up. “I should’ve seen it on that first night. She was that goo in your glass container you thought was just spoiled food. After we found her like that, she caught up, hid in the container again and would shift to a clear color any time someone opened your backpack. The only reason I spotted her was because she was a little slow on the transition that morning after the milking in Silere.”

“Wait, if you’ve been in that bottle the whole time… does that mean you followed me from Nox?” asked Galen.

Her head lowered and she fixed her eyes on Galen. “Yes.”

Stunned, he stared at her blankly, blinking his eyes until he figured out a response. “Why?”

“I hitched a ride there about twenty years ago, thinking I could get back whenever I wanted. But with the Kraken stopping the ships from leaving, my chances of returning disappeared. Slimes can swim alright, but it takes a lot of concentration to hold our bodies together in large bodies of water. I would’ve dissolved before making it back. I spent most of my time near the docks, hoping to catch someone trying for the mainland. When I saw you heading out, I snuck into your pack.”

“Why would you want to travel to Nox in the first place?”

She shrugged. “I was curious. Plus, I heard there weren’t many monsters over there, which left more semen for me.”

Galen crossed his arms. “This doesn’t make sense. I never heard about a slime attacking anyone and if it happened I definitely would’ve heard about it. The village was so small any sort of news would reach everyone.”

“I never got caught.” Her face scrunched into a frown. “I shouldn’t’ve gotten caught tonight, either, but I was desperate which made me sloppy.” Grinning, she leaned toward Galen over the bed, he body extending itself for her face to move close to his. “But you enjoyed it at least, right?”

“Gah!” He took a step back, a blush on his face. Seira’s claws dug into the wood floor, scratching it loud enough for him to hear, but he shook his head at her before turning back to the slime. “Why were you so desperate?”

“Because the scary manticore told me I couldn’t feed on you, and there was no one else to feed from. Most monsters can get enough nourishment from sources other than semen, but it’s not that way for slimes. We can drink a lot of water and ingest certain foods to keep ourselves stable for a time, but it’s only a temporary fix until we find semen.”

“You could’ve used someone else once we made it to the city!” barked Seira.

“But I like Galen,” the slime said, shifting her body back and forth, trying to look as pitiable as possible.

“Oh, woe is you,” said Seira. “You still should’ve used someone else.”

Galen shot Seira a glare then asked the slime, “Why me? I don’t even know you.”

“But I know you! I watched the village the entire twenty years I was stuck on that island, and I got to know every pretty well.” Her eyes darkened. “The men, especially. I like you Galen. I think you’re a good person.”

His hand immediately went to the back of his neck, fingers digging into his skin as he shrugged. “Well, I do what I can…”

“She’s just saying that to warm up to you!” said Seira. “Don’t fall for something so simple as that!”

“Seira, let her talk.”

Gnashing her teeth, she grabbed two pawfuls of her hair, shaking her head back and forth, but didn’t saying anything more.

“So,” said Galen, rubbing his chin, “you were on Nox, living off the men, went stowaway on my ship and you’ve been in that bottle all the way up until here, where you were forced to get out to feed because you were starving. Is that all correct?”

The slime nodded with a smile.

“But Seira’s right about there being more than one guy in this city. You knew she didn’t want you near me, but you ignored her warning and fed from me instead.”

“I know you. You wouldn’t want me to attack some innocent man if it meant sparing you, right? Plus, I thought I could do it without waking you and avoid this situation altogether.”

Galen pushed a hand to his mouth, looking up and the slime then down to the bed separating them. She had a point--he'd much rather be attacked himself. For selfless reasons, of course. Not because it felt really good. Letting out a loud breath, he pursed his lips and inspected the slime’s face intently. She continued to smile unabated through his gaze, meeting his eyes with her own. His foot started tapping on its own. The slime glowed innocence and sincerity. Her story, while unexpected, made sense. He actually found himself mentally patting her on the back for holding off as long as she did. He knew what direction he was leaning, and that Seira wouldn’t like it one bit. But it wouldn’t be fair to the slime to refuse her a chance.

“What’s your name?” asked Galen.

“Mino.” She tilted her head to the side. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Alright, Mino. I’ve decided to forgive you for what you did. It was out of desperation and you made a clear effort to follow Seira’s warning, even if she didn’t tell me about it in the first place. You can go.” He tensed, waiting for the inevitable backlash. He didn’t have to wait long.

“Are you serious?” Seira stood up, grabbed Galen by the shoulder and spun him around. “She almost killed you!”

“I don’t think she did. Or that she ever even meant real harm.”

“But she--“ Seria stopped, turning to the slime. “You little minx! I am not going to fall for your excuses!” She took a step forward, claws out, but Galen blocked her way.

Taking a deep breath and puffing his chest out as much as he could, Galen glared at Seira. It took more effort than he would have liked to admit to keep from wilting under her fury, but this was something he knew he couldn’t back down on. Sweat dripped down his neck and his lower lip quivered, but he held his ground. “This is my decision. You can’t harm her for what she did. I was the one attacked, and I was the one who forgave her.”

Seira lunged forward until their faces were inches away. Galen could smell the anger on her breath. “She betrayed me, too! She ignored my warning!”

“Was it just a warning? You didn’t tell me about it and from what I figure, you didn’t warn her as much as threaten her.” He swallowed, the gulp slowly traveling down his gullet louder than a drum. Part of him wanted to run away, to shut up, to stop talking to his friend like this. He trusted Seira, so why was he sticking up to her for a complete stranger? Was he being sentimental? Weak? Or was this one of those ‘stupid things’ he needed to fight for?

Seira huffed, her snarling face shifting to a frown. Heat radiated off her face, whether from rage or shame from being rebuked, he couldn’t tell. “Fine. Fine! I’ll accept it, but it doesn’t mean I like it.”

When Galen turned away from Seira, he half-expected Mino to already be gone. The slime was still standing there, however, hands behind her back and hips swaying back and forth.

“Well, Mino, are you going to leave?” said Galen.

“I want to stay with you.”

Goosebumps rushed up his arms as the air behind him immediately froze. A barely-restrained huff left Seira’s mouth as she stepped forward, her eyes staring at Mino so hard they could melt her. Galen was about to stop Seira, but he held himself back. If those two didn’t come to terms with each other right now, things could get much, much worse. He had to let them figure this out on their own. Besides, the frigid air surrounding Seira had already frozen his body in place. He couldn’t have moved if he wanted to. Somehow, Mino was holding her own, keeping that innocent posture and a subtle smile on her face.

“I want you to understand something, little slime,” spat Seira, her paws clenching into fists. “Every second you spend around me or any of my companions, I will have my eyes on you. If you make one errant move, say one thing out-of-line, I will end you. No compromises, no negotiations, and no quarter. You would be much, much safer half the world away. Is that clear?”

“Mmm-hmm. But Scary Seira doesn’t need to worry about me. I’m a good slime.” Mino reached out to pat Seira on the head, but Seira snarled and forced Mino to draw her hand back. “I’ve been with Galen the longest, you know, and I haven’t done anything to him. Besides, I like you, too.”

A moment of silence hung in between them, glare meeting grin. Seira then spun around and jumped into bed, her back facing Galen and Mino. “I’m going to sleep. Try to keep it down.”

Galen frowned at her. He wanted to have something to say, something to smooth things over, but this conflict would have to be fought and won without him. He couldn’t just make Seira stop hating slimes. With time, hopefully he’d be able to help convince her to warm up to Mino. His knees buckled and he fell back into his bed. Rolling over onto his back, he looked up at the ceiling. He guessed his little group had another member now. He glanced over to Mino, who was now inspecting the chest of drawers on the near wall. What was he going to do about her? If he accepted her as easily as he did Sybyll, Seira would probably resent him for it. If he ignored her or acted cold, that would be needlessly harsh. She hadn’t earned that kind of treatment. Where was Sybyll, anyways? Surely if she was nearby she would’ve heard all this commotion. How would she react to Mino?

Sighing, Galen closed his eyes. It was too early in the morning to think.

  
**

  
“Excuse me, Galen, but there appears to be a slime in your bed.”

“Bwuah?” said Galen, eyes blinking to adjust to the light. Sybyll stood over him, face tinted with concern. She pointed to his side. He looked to where she was pointing and found Mino curled up on his bed, her front facing him and one of her arms draped across his chest. His first thought was of Seira seeing him like this, but when he looked over to her bed, it was empty. It must have been dawn, or close to it.

“Uh, well, that’s kind of a long story,” he said, extracting himself from the bed without disturbing Mino. Once on his feet, he yawned, stretching his arms and back.

“I should like to hear it, then.”

After a yawn, Galen managed an “Alright,” then went into the details of Mino’s arrival. It didn’t take long, as there wasn’t much to tell. Sybyll remained stern and collected throughout the story, from Galen’s picking up Mino at the Nox port to the end of the argument last night. When Galen finished, she nodded.

Galen rocked back and forth on his feet, expecting some sort of reaction from Sybyll, but the nod was all he got.

“Do not forget, we will need to meet with the information trader’s agent shortly before dusk.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t forget about that.”

She walked out the door, leaving a slightly confused Galen and a still-sleeping Mino. No reaction? Really? A potential new monster in their party, one who’s been riding along since the beginning and attacked him last night, and all she had was a nod? Sybyll could be mistaken for a statue sometimes.

That wasn’t enough for Galen. He rushed out of the room, glancing back to Mino one last time, then caught up with Sybyll in the hallway.

“Don’t you have any sort of opinion on all this?”

“An opinion?” she said, turning around. “Yes, I can’t keep myself from forming an opinion. But it is not all that important.”

“I’d like to hear it anyways.”

“Very well. I agree with Seira in that she should not be a part of our group. I do not, however, believe she should be killed for what she did. It is a natural thing for monsters, especially slimes.” Unlike Seira, Sybyll spoke with no malice in her voice, simply stating her stance as if giving a lecture.

“Why don’t you think she should be in the group?”

“While Seira’s opinion of her seems to come from a bias, it is not without its truth. Slimes absolutely need to feed off of men to survive, and they must do it semi-frequently. Should this slime, Mino, come with us, how do you suppose she will be getting her meals?”

Galen ran a hand through his hair. “Ah, well, I didn’t really think about that. She could probably feed in the cities, right?”

“That is possible. But we will almost certainly not be in cities for an extended period of time. Once you find where the blacksmith and Poseidon are, you plan on traveling there, yes? Mino will need a man to feed her on the journey.”

His hand rubbed his scalp with more intensity. “I guess she will, huh? Oh well, I can live with that.”

“Furthermore,” said Sybyll, speaking louder, “what do you suppose will happen should her access to her meals be threatened? What if Seira and her end up becoming outright enemies?”

Galen’s eyes lowered. How come he hadn’t thought about all this? It should’ve been obvious. Seira probably had been considering it, too. That’s part of the reason why she’d been so mad. Galen had focused too much on being kind and fair, he forgot the real implications of letting another monster join them, especially a slime. If he took his acceptance back now, that likely wouldn’t do much to help the situation. Not only would Seira still be mad, but he’d look weak and indecisive. He wouldn’t discount Mino to follow them without permission, either. Bringing his hands to his face, all he could think was: ‘This is quite a mess you’ve gotten yourself into, Galen.’

“Galen.”

He looked up to Sybyll as she put a hand on his shoulder.

“There is merit in such valor. Do not discount all the positives because the negatives seem so haunting.”

She left Galen with that, walking out the front door with that dignified stride of hers. His feet wanted to rush after her so he could hug her, but at the same time, they were as heavy as lead. One day, maybe, he’d figure Sybyll out.

The rest of the morning and afternoon passed without incident, though not without its share of anxiety for Galen. He watched the front and back doors constantly, rarely wandering outside for fear of running into the lamia again. Seira apparently had no such worries, as she again spent most of the day off on her own. Galen didn’t even bother asking her where she went; her face told him more than enough when she returned. Sybyll stood watch where Galen did not, alternating between front and back whenever Galen would switch himself. They shared few words, speaking more with their faces and postures. Sybyll’s confident stride and calm face seemed to tell him to relax and stay focused, while his beads of sweat, dilated eyes and twitching feet responded with a weak “I’m trying.”

The innkeeper was gracious enough to allow them to stay at least another day. Sybyll was an object of attraction, it seemed, and as long as the patrons saw her face, he was happy. Galen made a mental note to ask the information trader about lizardmen. Not only for his own curiosity, but for Sybyll, as well. While she may have acted as if the status of her race was unimportant to her, something told Galen she was just hiding it. Surely someone could not become so disconnected, even after a thousand years away from their kind?

Most of Galen’s day was spent with Mino. After she woke, she clung to him like a child would sweets, asking him every little thing that came to her head. She already knew plenty thankfully, due to her time spent in Galen’s backpack, but there was still much she wanted to know. Galen’s mind, splintered between worrying about the lamia, Seira, the meeting with the information trader, and how to handle the addition of Mino to his group, couldn’t handle her barrage gracefully. He hoped his inability to answer would discourage her, but any noncommittal answer only strengthened her deathgrip on his arm.

‘Energetic’ was Mino in a word, if a bit oblivious. Either she couldn’t pick up on Galen’s state, or wholly disregarded it. He had to admit, he’d been excited to meet and learn about various monsters on his journey, including slimes, but now was not the time for it. And from what he’d heard of slimes--both from his father’s stories and Seira--Mino was not your average slime. The Mino from last night--that's what he thought of when slimes came to mind. Relentless, seductive, flexible, and hungry, not the hyper, excitable, and eager slime following him around. He remembered Seira saying red slimes, specifically, were more dangerous. Did that mean there was a significant difference between slimes based on their color?

When the sun finally lowered to near the horizon, Sybyll came to fetch Galen for their meeting with the information trader. Dashing his fear as best he could, Galen nodded, checking both his swords before following her to the door. Mino, however, tugged at his shirt, stopping him.

“Can I come?”

“Eh, well, I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m not sure how safe it’ll be,” said Galen.

“I’m a slime! We’re real sturdy!” said Mino, inflating her chest and giving it a good smack.

“If I may interject,” said Sybyll. “The man we spoke with yesterday will be expecting a lizardman and a human, and only that. It would be unwise to catch him off balance with an additional participant. Our meeting will be a delicate thing.”

Galen nodded in agreement. “That’s a good point. Mino, stay here and watch our stuff. We shouldn’t be gone all that long.” 

Her body exaggeratedly deflated, but she accepted the decision. “Oh-kay! I will guard your stuff really well!” She sent them off with a wave.

Oddly enough, Galen found his legs steady on the walk to the spot they found the agent yesterday. Maybe he just wasn’t good at waiting around for things to happen. Now that he had a clear mission, he felt his usual gusto returning to his body. He walked with his back straight and his head held high, though his figure was still dwarfed next to Sybyll. He observed her with sidelong glances, imitating her posture almost in a game of sorts. He swung his arms at the same intervals, kept his steps in sync with hers, nudged his chin to the proper level, and even went as far as to try to mimic her breathing pattern.

So caught up in his game, Galen didn’t realize they’d arrived until Sybyll came to a halt. Just down the street, in the same shadowy spot as yesterday, the man, the information trader’s agent, stood leaning up against a wall.

Only then did Galen come to a terrible realization.

“Oh no,” said Galen, the color draining from his face.

“What is it?” An alien element of alarm crept into Sybyll’s voice.

“I forgot to do my morning routine!”

**Chapter 12**

A rank smell invaded Galen’s nose as he stepped around a pile of horse dung. The dusk wind pushed into his face. He squinted into it, blocking it as best he could with his hand. He’d briefly contemplated performing his routine right there in the street, but decided it wouldn’t have any meaning if he didn’t do it first thing in the day. His stomach grumbled, not from hunger, but a creeping suspicion things might take a poor turn as a result of his negligence. The man had caught sight of them, one blue eye glimmering as it locked onto their approaching figures. They said nothing on arrival, waiting for some kind of cue.

“Glad you two could make it,” he said, straightening his back off the wall. “I’ve got good news. My boss said she’ll see you.” His grin carried a private sort of happiness, like he was showing off. “So if you’ll follow me…”

Waving them onward, he started off with a leisurely stride, his long legs almost liquid in their movements and his shoes hitting the cobblestone road with a sound like a horse hoof. The long coat he wore swayed back and forth with his gait, ignoring the wind as if it were a pesky neighbor. He never made a glance behind him to check on Galen or Sybyll. All business, Galen figured. Sybyll matched the man’s aura easily, but Galen felt like a kid tagging along. He almost spoke up to ask a question several times, but the words kept choking in his mouth. It would be pointless to ask about their destination anyways, as they would soon see it first-hand.

At first, the man led them through the main streets, treating everyone as if they didn’t exist. Not a nod or greeting to anyone that passed. Eventually he turned down an alleyway where the group left behind the clamor of the city foot traffic and idle conversation. The sun could do little more than peek through the buildings at them, soft lines of light their only source of illumination in the tightening alleys. The man in front of them took each turn sharp, forcing Galen to jog forward to keep sight of him. On occasion, a lone man or monster would eye them as they walked by. Galen kept his eyes to himself as much as his could.

The alleyways became too narrow for Galen and Sybyll to walk side-by-side, so he took the lead without a word. They hadn’t spoken at all since meeting the man, in fact. His pace kept their attentions on him at all times. In a way, he was thankful for their pace. It kept him from obsessing over who this information trader was. Galen’s breathing quickened, the thick, damp air staining his lungs with each breath. The anxiety that choked down his words threatened to suffocate him, and just as he moved a hand to massage his neck, the man in front of them stopped.

His deep, smooth voice struck the silence. “Wait here. I’ll let her know we’ve arrived.” He opened the door in front of him, letting it close itself with a yawning creak.

When the door rapped shut, Galen shifted his attention to his surroundings. The door lay at a ‘T’ intersection of alleyways, deep within whatever maze of buildings the man had led them through. He though he could hear a whisper of far-off conversation, but no one else stood within sight. The door was set against a wall at the base of a short stairwell, not entirely unlike the stairwell to the hidden room which once held Toneruth. He stepped to the side, giving Sybyll the chance to come forward and get a look at their destination as well.

“You seem nervous,” she said.

While her tone remained flat, Galen couldn’t shake the feeling she was teasing him a bit. “But just as excited. I mean, this is a big deal! Can you imagine how much an information trader knows? She’ll be able to help us for sure!”

She crossed her arms under her breasts. “I hope I don’t need to remind you of the risk.”

He arched his back and wiped the sweat from his forehead, frowning. “Don’t have to be a downer about it.”

“And you don’t need to act like this isn’t getting to you.”

“Hmph.”

The door creaked open and the man stuck his head out. “Come in. And I advise you not to try anything with your weapons. We’ve allowed you to keep them because we know there is nothing you can hope to do with them. I just thought I should let you know.” His head disappeared back into the cellar and the door began creaking shut once again.

No use hesitating. Galen punched his fists together and descended the staircase. He grasped the door handle and heaved the door open, finding it much heavier than he expected. He waved Sybyll through. She nodded as she passed him.

His first step inside was heavier than the rest, but once he left that door behind him, he never let his feet falter. When it thudded shut, he moved forward, despite the chill that rushed up his spine.

If the air outside was thick, the cellar air was molasses. Galen swallowed to keep from coughing, wiping his mouth as he walked. The only light came from an open area up ahead, spilling into the cramped hallway like a promise for things to come. At the end of the hallway was another door, this one being held open by the man that led them there. While one hand clenched into a fist, Galen’s other settled naturally on the end of Toneruth’s hilt. His palm dug into the wrapping, its fibers coarse against his skin. Stepping into the lit room ahead, his eyes flickered to the man holding the door before inspecting the room.

Five monsters shared the room with the man, Galen, and Sybyll. Two were leaning against the wall on the far side of the room, carrying an air much like the man that led Galen and Sybyll there. The way the shadows swallowed them, he couldn’t tell if they were looking at him or not, or even what type of monster they were. But with their size, tall enough to touch the low ceiling with their heads, and arms muscled enough to tear a man in two, they couldn’t possibly be human. Before Galen sat a table, almost as long as the room, worn with deep cuts and flaking splinters. Just in front of it, on the left, stood a monster Galen almost mistook for a girl at first. But as his eyes adjusted to the light of the cellar, her clearly monster features came into focus. Two curved horns, like a ram’s, jutted out of a head of golden-brown hair. Her legs beneath the knee and arms past the elbows were covering in fur, thick and tan. Instead of feet, she had hooves at the end of her legs, and her arms ended in 3-fingered paws. The garb she wore seemed ceremonial, baggy and well-decorated. A long, green cape around her shoulders covered her back and, clasped at the neck, covered her front as well. One arm extended out from underneath it, holding a cruel-looking scythe. Galen swallowed. It definitely wasn’t made for work in the fields.

On Galen’s right, at the opposite end of the table as the girl-monster, a salamander crossed her arms and stared at him. He knew the appearance of a salamander from his father’s stories--strong, prideful monsters with an appetite for combat. Their tails ignited with bright flames when excited, though this salamander’s flames were dulled at the moment. Her height rivaled Sybyll’s, as did her stance… though when he looked harder, he felt as if there was something more to it. Restlessness? He glanced to Sybyll, who was staring at the salamander as well, her eyes intense almost to the point of a glare.

The final occupant of the room, and who Galen expected was their information trader, stood behind the table, smirking at the fresh pair of travelers who had entered her domain. Eight legs, spiked at the end, a large, black abdomen, and two smaller appendages right where her body transformed from that of a spider to that of a woman. Her slender arms laid relaxed on a pair of legs, her eyes taking the sight of those before her as if she already owned them. She wore a dark, purple shirt, cut to reveal her stomach but covering everything else. The sleeves and neck ended in white frills, motionless from the lack of wind in the cellar. Her ink-black hair was impressively long, the tips of it even reaching her spider abdomen at points.

Galen took in a deep breath, his eyes circling the room, moving from each occupant to the next. He rubbed his fingers into his sweaty palms, checking his posture and comparing it to each of the monsters’. His lower lip curled under his top row of teeth, teetering back and forth. His mouth opened to speak, but the words coming up his throat tasted like poison on his tongue, and they never met the air. A sidelong look at Sybyll revealed nothing he did not expect; a calm, yet confident aura around her, face focused so sharp it put his sword to shame. Her left arm didn’t rest on her sword, though that could be simply because she knew there was nothing she could do with it to help Galen. Her hand still twitched, though, as if it wanted to hold something.

“You have sought me out, travelers. Let me hear what it is you wish to know.”

The arachne’s voice hung in the air thicker than her presence, smooth and tantalizing, tickling Galen’s ears. He swallowed down the knot in his throat and replied.

“We w-want to know where we can find a capable blacksmith who can use magic in the forge and the location of Poseidon, the ruler of the seas.” That was a good reply, wasn’t it? Factually correct?

“And what do you offer?”

A burst of wheezes, quick and blunt, came from Galen’s mouth. He hadn’t prepared for this at all. “Well, whatever you feel is good.”

The arachne stood up taller, almost hitting the ceiling, tapping her cheek with a finger as she looked down on Galen and Sybyll. “Hmm. Hmm. I do so hate lying, and I would be lying if I said I did not have an idea of what I want from you. Since you have been so forthcoming with your request, I shall be the same with mine.” A thin finger extended toward Sybyll. “Your kind has been all but invisible on the mainland for the past one hundred years. Might you share with me the reason so?”

‘Drat,’ thought Galen. Exactly as they feared. He hoped Sybyll could give a convincing answer.

“And the information would be worth what we are asking?” she asked.

“It would be a good start. You have already learned one of the places I reside and the identity of several of my guards. I would say you are already in a bit of debt,” she said, adding a chuckle at the end.

Double drat! Sybyll and Seira had warned him about the dangers and they were already up to their neck in it. He’d have to start thinking of a solution, and quick.

“I am afraid I can not answer your question at all. I have been away from my people for many centuries. Their fate lies hidden from me.”

Heat rushed to Galen’s face. That was not going to get them out of trouble in any way. Why did she have to answer like that?

“No hint? Nothing at all? Even an idea could be worth something,” said the arachne.

“I have no conjecture to offer. My village lied north of here and was well-populated when I left it. Perhaps you can find your answer there.”

“Perhaps. But that does not help your situation at all, does it?”

The salamander placed a claw on the sword on her hip, a gruesomely-thick and long blade. The two monsters in the shadows took their backs off the wall and the man that led Galen and Sybyll there took a step forward from behind them. 

“Let’s not escalate this at all, yeah?” Galen said. His shaking voice did little to convince the monsters.

“I would love to avoid any mess,” said the arachne, crossing her arms. “All you need to do is offer some valuable knowledge.”

Galen looked back and forth between Sybyll and the other monsters. Did she really need to be so painfully honest? She was over a thousand years old, there had to be SOMEthing she knew! Yet all she did was stand there, watching the monsters ready themselves for a fight. She didn’t even put a hand on her sword!

He leaned toward her, whispering in her ear. “Any help would be appreciated!”

“My knowledge is mostly of an ordinary life as a lizardman and as a companion of an already well-known man. It is either so old as to be obsolete, or already spread amongst the public,” she whispered back.

“There has to be something!”

“Wishing for knowledge will not make it appear.”

Galen almost reached out to shake her. Did anything ever disturb her? Shouldn’t she be concerned for his life?

“Um, hey! I’m from Nox. No one has made it to the mainland from there for a couple decades at least! I should know something good!”

“From Nox, you say?” She ran a finger along her throat as if tickling it. “Unless you’re raising an army there, I’m afraid any knowledge about that island is worth little to me. I already know of the blockade put in place by the Kraken. A curious thing, but nothing of note.” She raised an eyebrow. “Unless you can explain why the blockade is in place? I have been wondering…”

“Heh,” said Galen, scratching his head. “I was actually seeking Poseidon to find that out.”

“How unfortunate.” She raised a hand, pointing to the ceiling then curling her finger downward. The guards at the front of the room except for the ram-girl started forward, each step slow, their eyes more on Sybyll than Galen.

His heart stopped. Think! Think! Could they really have nothing to share? Would his journey really end on such a pointless note, cut up in an empty cellar and left to rot, another nameless death so far from home? His eyes shot between his enemies. The wood creaked beneath their stalking steps, announcing death with each. He had seconds. A weak whimper escaped his mouth.

Why were they all staring at Sybyll, anyways? She wasn’t any threat to them. If they were smart, they would just--

His eyes lit up and he thrust his hands forward, shaking them in a plea for time. “Wait! I thought of something!”

The guards froze. The ram-girl, who had lit a small purple flame in her paw, let it extinguish. At least they were giving him the benefit of the doubt. Galen slowly went for Toneruth, but when his hands touched the sword, the tip of the salamander’s blade was shoved toward him, inches from his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not drawing it. I just need to show her,” he said, nodding to the arachne, “the sword itself.”

The salamander’s eyes narrowed, but she stepped back without a word, her blade still hovering in the air between them.

Okay, Galen. Time to shine.

He removed Toneruth, sheath and all, from his belt, holding it curve-down in both hands as he approached the table separating him and the arachne. Being sure not to make any sudden movements, he laid the sword down and allowed the arachne to inspect it. She rubbed her chin, looking between Galen and the blade.

“If you are offering this, I’m afraid I do not deal in arms, only information.”

“I’m not offering the sword itself. I’m offering its name.” He tried projecting his voice with strength, but the last word caught in his throat.

“Oh? Now this is interesting. This sword is important enough to have a name?” Her eyes glinted in the dim light.

“More than one. Sybyll calls it Tellus, but the name you probably know is--“

“--Toneruth.” She finished his sentence for him. The word made her salivate, her long tongue slipping out to run over her lips. “I am familiar with its older name. But that is quite the claim! If you can prove it true, and share with me how you came to such a possession, I will gladly share with you the information you need.”

He swallowed. There was hope, but he wasn’t out of the woods yet. “What have you heard about it? What can I show to prove it to you?”

“Hmm.” She raised her chin, eyeing Galen cautiously. “Two things of note. The first being that monsters cannot touch it. The second being that it does not cut like other swords. Not much is known of Toneruth, but I heard it cuts spirit, not flesh. Show me those two things, and I will believe you.”

Galen’s breath left him in a rush. That was simple. He grabbed the handle and drew the blade. When it came free and the short, jagged piece stared back at him, he suddenly remembered it was broken.

“Broken? How curious. And the blade is only on one side,” said the arachne, but didn’t stop Galen.

He offered her the hilt. “Here, touch it. But not for long. That should prove the first part.”

One lithe, smooth arm reached out, the arachne’s fingers wrapping around the hilt. They stayed for not a second before snapping away. The arachne’s eyes darkened as she rubbed the affected hand. “Effective. Have my guards at your sides touch it as well. I want to make sure.”

Galen nodded, then offered the hilt to her guards in the same fashion. Their experiences were just the same as hers, though the salamander smirked at Galen after removing her hand instead of wincing like the other two.

“The second part isn’t hard to show, either. Watch.” Galen held the broken end of the blade to his palm. He closed his eyes, tensing in response to the impending rush of cold and numbness, but he knew he had to do this. On opening his eyes, he thrust the sword straight through his palm.

Instant cold consumed his hand. His fingers, losing their strength, all began to curl and slacken. Just as with the last time Galen struck with Toneruth, the hilt had gone cold, biting into his other hand as well. His brain kept telling him he’d made a horrible mistake, that there was a damned SWORD impaling his hand, but pushed the panic away. He could endure this. Even as his hand transformed into ice, he had to endure it. 

Instead of the collective gasps he was expecting, he heard only a “hmph” from the arachne. The rest of them, including Sybyll, must have seen something like this before. He showed the arachne the blade had clearly passed through his palm, fighting to keep his face from betraying the icy chills rushing down his arm, before yanking the blade out as quickly as it had been thrust in. The hilt warmed right up, though his pierced hand remained numb. He put his palm forth to the arachne.

“No blood. My hand is numb, though.”

Her eyes danced with a growing excitement as she took in the sight. “Indeed. And is the effect permanent?”

“No, and the stronger your willpower, the shorter it lasts.”

“Guard!” she said, gesturing to the salamander. “Place your claw on the table. Boy, stab it as you did with your hand.”

He arched his eyebrows in concern. “Are you sure?”

“It is not permanent, yes? And you did it to yourself. I am not worried.”

The salamander stepped forward and placed her claw on the table, smirking at Galen, probably from his pointless worry. When he glanced back at her, his eyes gravitated to her tail as it was swaying back and forth with more than just a few sparks coming from it.

He shrugged. “Alright.” Positioning the sword directly over the claw, he took one measured breath and stabbed. Toneruth ran through her claw with ease, but stopped against the table with a thunk. The hilt went cold, its frigid touch biting into Galen’s hand so hard he almost felt he’d have to let go. For whatever reason, this time the cold was more intense. He couldn’t afford to let this demonstration fail, however, so he held, paying attention instead to the salamander’s claw. Galen watched her digits dig into the table for a moment before she regained composure and relaxed them. After a short time, he figured that was enough and withdrew Toneruth, giving the salamander her claw back. She lifted it, inspecting it closely, front and back, before attempting to curl it into a fist. At least, that’s what Galen suspected. All that happened was a weak twitch from her digits. She looked to the arachne and nodded.

“Wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.” She put her hands on her hips. “Now explain how you came to acquire it.”

Galen nodded, sheathing the blade and placing it back on his hip. “For the past few hundred years, it had been resting in Silere. That is where I found it.” The arachne nodded at Galen’s statement, but let him continue. “It had been sealed away from the world in a room created with magic. One of the ruined houses had a secret passage leading to that room and I found it.”

“And how did you know where to look?”

“My father knew a lot of stories about it. When I put the information from all of them together, I had a pretty good idea.”

“Your father seems like a knowledgeable man. Where did he hear these stories?”

Galen opened his mouth to answer, but Sybyll stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. “You should not give away information for free, Galen. The woman has stated she will provide you with what you need for the information you have already provided.”

A low chuckle came from the arachne. “I cannot help my curiosity sometimes. Do not blame a merchant for seeking the best deal she can find.” She raised her open hands up to her shoulders. “But you have me. I did say that was the deal, so I will uphold my end.” She coughed into her hand. “The queen of the seas, Poseidon, resides on the eastern coast of the continent, a little more than halfway up the shore on a map. There is a cove, the Diamond Blue, where she has made her abode. On rare occasions, she will travel, but for your purposes, you will almost certainly find her there. There may be a few blacksmiths who can help you restore Toneruth, all of which can be found in Uuluth. Your best bet is a man by the name of Edward Smith.” She grinned. “A fitting name for a blacksmith, don’t you think?”

“Y-yeah,” said Galen. He winced when Sybyll’s grip on his shoulder tightened, her claws digging into his skin. Looking up to her, he noticed her mouth straining to stay straight and her eyes opened a touch wider than normal. For Sybyll, she might as well have been screaming her shock to the room with that expression.

“Sybyll?”

“Edward Smith,” she asked, taking a step forward. “You are sure that is the name? Edward Smith?”

“You recognize it, do you?” The arachne’s grin deepened, her eyes drilling into Sybyll. “You two are no end of curiosities. Yes, the name is correct. I’ve been told he is the current generation of a line of many blacksmiths by that name. Quite famous for their skill.” Slackening her shoulders, she crossed her arms. “As amusing as our encounter has been, I dislike being around such curious beings with no way of learning about them. If you have further needs, let them be known, else leave.”

Sybyll’s hand dropped from Galen’s shoulder and she was right back to her usual self, composed and confident. She glanced down to Galen. “Do you need anything else?”

“Uh, no, actually.” He turned to the arachne. “Thank you.”

She waved him off. “Just business.”

They left the same way they came, the dark man leading them through the alleyways back to the main streets. Galen’s mind clung to that vision of Sybyll, her eyes widening and her grip constricting. What was it about that name that got her so riled up?

Heavy footsteps carried him all the way to the street, stopping when the man parted ways with them.

“Let me know if you need anything more. She seemed quite happy with the exchange,” was his farewell accompanied by a flourish of his coat.

The sun had since set, leaving the streets mostly empty. A few sparse torches lit certain doorways, but the street they were on was devoid of activity. The air had begun to chill, slipping under Galen’s clothing in licks and whispers, sending shivers up his spine. Each breath went down sharp and came out heavy. His eyes wandered to Sybyll, watching her stand up straight, her attention forward but unfocused. She began her walk back toward the inn, but Galen grabbed her scaly hand, stopping her.

“That name, where do you recognize it from?” With Seira, leaving these sorts of questions silent was important, but something told him he had to ask Sybyll about this.

“When we first met, I told you of a blacksmith and two magi who forged Tellus.” Her fierce, golden eyes gazed down at Galen. “The blacksmith’s name was Edward Smith.”

Her explanation cut off there and she took off at a brisk pace. Galen watched her for a moment, swallowing the information, but he couldn’t think up something to say in reaction. Shaking his head, he started at Sybyll. They could talk later. Their footsteps echoed against the silent buildings, buildings which watched the two travelers as they walked. The streets were eerily empty and the cold was starting to get to him. Besides, they still had a deal to keep with the innkeeper, and if the lamia were back, they’d need Sybyll to do the guarding again.

“Galen,” said Sybyll, stopping in her tracks.

“Yeah?”

“Those lamia…”

“What about them?”

“They see you.”

His body froze below his neck. Slowly, painfully slowly, he rotated his head to face where Sybyll was looking.

Not twenty feet away stood the lamia, all three glaring at Galen, and his only thought was:

‘I knew I should’ve done my morning routine.’

**Chapter 13**

He clamped a hand over his heart to keep it from beating out of his chest. The lamia’s eyes and his met and froze, almost as if locked together. Memories came rushing back to him, carried along a current of fear and pain. Their bodies were unmistakable. One, shorter than the others, had a spear on her back that reflected a glint of moonlight. Galen felt the most intensity from her gaze, but the others were hardly docile. The tallest, her skin dark as tree bark, stood at the front of the trio with her arms at her sides. The last appeared almost amused, her arms crossed and mouth twisted into a grin. All three had the light armor and well-built figures her remembered, as well as those threatening tails swishing about. Those were the weapons that almost killed him last time.

His mind shifted from hazy to crystal clear in a second. A hundred possibilities ran through his head. He tried his best to filter out only the important ones. Should he run? Act like nothing had happened? Let them interrogate him again and pretend he didn’t know Seira? In a city like this, there would have to be some witnesses if they started fighting. Maybe they wouldn’t got that far?

Their charge forward answered that questions rather decisively. Galen froze up, his limbs shivering with fear, vision blurring at the onslaught before him. It was odd, watching them move with such speed but hearing no footsteps. Their snake bellies scrapped against the cobblestone with a sound like clothing against skin. Their bodies swayed back and forth with their movement, hypnotizing Galen as he watched.

“What are you doing?” asked Sybyll.

“Wha?” Galen shook his head, snapping out of his trance. “I, uh, I dunno. Do you think we could outrun them?”

“Not for long. Lamia are faster than humans.”

He looked up and down the street for an escape route, but found nothing. The only ways out were through the lamia or back the way they came, into the alleyways. Just the thought of going back sent shivers up his spine. “Well, um, what if we could find guards?”

“They would not help us right away. Guards are more interested in their own lives than settling the squabbles of monsters and men. Only if they had numbers would they try to interfere.”

“So we’d have to wait until they brought backup?”

“Assuming the guards on duty tonight care about their duty enough to do so.”

“Dangit!”

Galen looked back to the alleyways once again. They were thin enough to force the lamia to fight one at a time, and with their snake bodies it’d be harder to maneuver, not to mention he might just be able to lose them in the maze of passages. However, at this time of night, he wouldn’t be able to see a thing, and the alleyways were far from empty. A fleeing human would make an easy target to anyone--human or monster--prowling the darkness..

Gritting his teeth, he faced the lamia and drew the broken Toneruth sword. Real heroes didn’t run from challenges, right? They stood their ground. He’d been running from these three since the start of his journey and he was sick of it. He had time only to plant his feet before the lamia surrounded him. He kept a careful eye on their tails, his gaze flickering away from them only long enough to catch where the lamia were looking as well.

“You say you did not know the manticore, but it’s an awfully odd coincidence to find you in the same city her tracks led,” said the lead lamia, her gaze thick with anger. “And even more interesting is the fact that there were human tracks alongside manticore tracks the entire way.”

He swallowed, but kept his face even. Sybyll drew her own sword.

What was the point in that? She couldn’t touch these lamia.

“Unfortunate we have to involve a monster in this. I would ask you to leave, lizardman, but I assume you would take it as an insult.”

“You have it correct.”

Galen threw a look over his shoulder to Sybyll. An insult? His face soured at being reminded how little he truly knew about monsters.

The lead lamia pointed her weapon, a short sword, at Galen. “This needn’t be painful as it was last time. Tell us where to find the manticore and we will be done with you. But be warned--feigning ignorance will only aggravate me and my companions further. Our journey has lead us far and we have little patience left.”

Then he just wouldn’t feign ignorance, then. “I’m not telling you anything.” He raised Toneruth a bit higher in an attempt to be intimidating, but the broken blade felt like little more than a twig in his hands. Against the orcs it had proven useful because they were overconfident and slow. These lamia had no such weaknesses.

“And you’re going to defend yourself with that? A broken sword? It only has a blade on one side.” She brandished her buckler and short sword. “Very well. We will try to avoid breaking bones until the interrogation starts. Gueriel, take the lizardman. I will handle the boy.”

He knew she called him ‘boy’ to get on his nerves, but he couldn’t help his anger. His hands tightened on the hilt of his hilariously-short weapon, digging into the grip until his palms burned. The air stood still. Galen’s gaze locked with the lamia’s. He pushed out every thought but those of the opponent in front of him. He could afford no distractions. This was it. His first real fight, a fight for his life. This wasn’t Seira playing around with him, this wasn’t his father sparring with him, this was a true enemy who wanted to incapacitate him by any means necessary. There would be no mercy.

His eyes went to her tail. That short sword was one thing, but he was still about two body lengths away from her. Her tail would be her primary weapon until he got in close. It would move like lightning when it struck. Last time, he was caught unaware, but if he could just keep his attention on it…

‘Lightning’ was the correct comparison, alright.

It struck with a surprising silence as it tore through the air. One second it was hovering off the ground behind her, the next it was in his face. He choked out an awkward grunt as he flung himself away. His movement was no graceful dodge, no practiced motion, nothing he’d ever do in training without being criticized. It was a desperate lunge in pure reaction to the presence of danger. The wind blowing off her attack brushed his shoulder. His dodge had been just enough, but it threw him off balance. He stumbled a couple steps, turning back to the lamia as soon as he regained his footing, only to see the tail coming at him again, this time in a sweep instead of a stab, aimed right for his ribs.

Blocking it would’ve been useless. The momentum could very well be enough to break his arm. He had to dodge again. He jumped as high as he could, leaning his body toward her tail. It passed underneath him--mostly. His legs couldn’t come high enough off the ground and her tail swiped them, though at an angle, so the impact wasn’t as brutal as it could’ve been. His lower legs exploded in pain, forcing a grunt from Galen as the hit threw his jump into a flip. His rear hit the ground first, sending a second explosion of pain through his body. The landing knocked the wind from him as well, throwing his vision into a daze. He hadn’t even stood up when a blur appeared above him: the lamia’s tail about to come down for a final blow.

Was this it? Would he really lose a fight so pitifully? Even against Seira, he was able to block a few blows and fit in some jabs. But this… this was pathetic. He hadn’t made the lamia break a sweat. Toneruth still burned in his hand, the broken sword looking much like Galen felt. All that time training, the advice, practicing positions and swings, taking each moment to heart, all made useless by one monster opponent with strength, speed, and range far superior to Galen’s own. What would his father say to the boy groaning and helpless on his back?

He wanted to be strong, damnit! The Kraken, Seira, Sybyll, and the orcs all showed him what a poor excuse for a warrior he was. He couldn’t accept this!

“No!” yelled Galen. He rolled to the right without a second to spare. The tail struck the ground so hard the echoes of the impact rattled Galen’s ears. He threw his weight forward and tucked into a roll. It was only a guess, but that should’ve sent him right next to the lamia. Rushing to his feet, he started bringing up his sword again, but the moment he saw how close he’d actually gotten he took a buckler to the face.

He cried out, stumbling backwards and doing everything to tone out the pain emanating from his nose, wave after wave of it buffeting his brain and threatening to make him fall over. He finally caught himself, shook his head, and charged back in, Toneruth once again at the ready. If he could just land one good blow, take her by surprise, the fight would be over. The trouble was her superior speed and range, but with that last roll, he had gotten in just close enough to force her to use her hand weapons. Now all he hand to do was strike!

Yelling out his exertion, Galen swung Toneruth in a mighty sideward strike, putting his entire body behind the blow. Such an act would surely have disappointed his father and sword teacher, but he couldn’t give himself the time to set his feet. He had to attack now, with everything he had.

The short, light blade moved at an impressive speed, whistling through the air, heading straight for the lamia where her human body met her snake body. He would’ve preferred to strike at her head or chest, but she was too tall for that sort of attack to be reliable.

Toneruth froze as if the air had turned to stone. The collision jarred Galen’s body hard enough to knock his teeth together. The lamia’s short sword had come down to block. Galen briefly wondered why his sword hadn’t gone straight through hers, but didn’t have time to contemplate it. Her buckler came forward again to smash his face, but he ducked under it just in time, pulling Toneruth off her short sword. He struck again, this time a stab, and again his attack was knocked away. The following counterattack grazed his shoulder, sending him off-balance. He hardly had time to get his bearings before she descended on him, blow after blow coming in blurs. Galen could do nothing more than parry and dodge, his footing insecure as she pushed him further and further back.

Eventually he was too slow. His parry was awkward, knocking her sword away but leaving him wide open. Her bucker rammed into the side of his head, igniting his vision with red and sending him to the ground. He expected to be pierced by her weapon in the next second, but a clang stole his and his opponent’s attention.

A short ways away, Sybyll and the other lamia were fighting. No, ‘fighting’ wasn’t the word. That would imply the lamia was somehow holding ground or involved as an equal. It was an absolute rout.

Galen saw Sybyll as he had never seen her before. Her body was like water, flowing along a current of lightning-fast strikes, hips, legs, and feet moving in a perfect system. Her eyes never left her target, like an archer focused on her prey. Galen couldn’t hope to count the number of blows she unleashed, only gape as her advance overwhelmed her enemy.

But she couldn’t land a single strike. Well, it wasn’t that she couldn’t, it was that she had to chose to miss in order to maintain the façade. Every attack was just wide of connecting. Sybyll allowed the lamia to think her weapon could parry Sybyll’s blows and therefore send them off-target. While to the lamia it may have looked as if she was barely holding Sybyll off, in truth, the lizardman was calculating exactly how to divert each and every strike, giving her opponent just enough time to retaliate with a block or parry. The skill to do such a thing was staggering--far more than required to simply defeat her enemy.

“Belvedan! Help her out!” The shout came from the lamia he was fighting.

Belvedan? Galen stumbled to his feet, blinking his eyes in an effort to clear his vision. His opponent was facing away from him, but pointing toward Sybyll. He directed his attention along her gaze.

The third lamia.

How could he have forgotten? The group had always numbered three. One for him and one for Sybyll had left the third on her own. Had she attacked earlier, in the midst of his fight, he never would’ve even gotten close.

The lamia Belvedan’s hand had begun to glow. Her eyes narrowed and her lips were moving in an unending stream of silent words. Galen swallowed. That’s what she’d been doing the entire time: readying magic. It must not have been something she could do instantly for her to have removed herself from the fight for so long, but from his opponent’s urging, Belvedan must’ve been ready.

He surveyed the scene. His opponent stood only a few strides away. The two of them were almost right between Belvedan and Sybyll, though Belvedan was much further away than his opponent. Attacking the lamia in front of him would be his best bet, especially with her attention on Belvedan for the moment, but it wouldn’t do anything for Sybyll. Then again, did he even need to do anything for Sybyll? She was a phantom, unaffected by the world. The spell would pass right through her, right? He gritted his teeth. The decision seemed so obvious. Tightening his grip on Toneruth again, he lunged at the closest lamia.

His first footstep gave him away, but all he’d needed from the beginning was one slip-up from her. With Toneruth as his weapon, their difference in physique didn’t matter as much as the lamia thought it would. His heart thudded like a resounding drum with each step, muscles exploding into action into that tiny opening. On his third step, she’d turned to face him and was bringing her sword and buckler to bear, but the distance was already zero. He launched himself as high as he could, giving him access to those vital areas, and brought Toneruth down with all his might, the slash aimed at her heart.

In some extraordinary feat of speed and focus, the lamia brought up her short sword in time to deflect the blow, but only a slight amount. The purpose with which Galen swung would not be denied. Her sword took the strike far too near the hilt, tossing her hand out of the way and absorbing the blunt of the force. Ordinarily, such a tactic would be effective against a broken sword swung by a weak human at a lightly-armored chest. The blade would scrape against the armor, but not find skin.

But Toneruth was no ordinary blade.

The jagged edge passed through armor, skin, and muscles as if it were little more than air. The hilt froze on contact, biting at Galen’s fingers as the blade ripped through her will. Galen couldn’t stop himself from grinning, his eyes lighting up in delight at seeing his first successful cut. While the minor deflection prevented the blow from incapacitating the lamia in one strike, from her gasp and subsequent collapse Galen could tell she was in no shape to fight for the moment.

He gave himself no time to celebrate, however. He spun around and sprinted toward the invisible line between Belvedan and Sybyll. Belvedan’s hand was up now, palm facing Sybyll and her eyes were alight with the same purple glow. Whatever she was casting, the spell was igniting now. He had no more time to interrupt her; he could only block it.

Her final word was shouted and the light on her hand exploded outward, launching a deadly violet missile at Sybyll’s back. With a shout, Galen threw himself in its path, blocking the spell with Toneruth.

…Sort of.

Toneruth certainly had an effect on the spell on contact, but not exactly what Galen had expected. Instead of being neutralized or knocked away, it actually split in two. One half of the spell went straight into the ground, ripping up the street and sending debris into the air while the other half veered off and struck Galen in the shoulder. He shouted in pain, the bright light swallowing his sanity as it tore at his body. It felt as if his arm had been blown clear off. A hundred years of ache and pain compounded on his shoulder in an instant. The impact sent him spiraling through the air much like the debris from the other half of the explosion. He landed on his stomach and slid a few feet, scraping up his nose and arms.

A biting numbness enveloped his entire left arm where the spell had hit. His right hand, still holding Toneruth, slapped over to his shoulder and squeezed, assuring Galen it was, in fact, still there. He let out a strained groan as he flipped over onto his back. Sitting up took every ounce of his strength. He winced when a bolt of pain shot up his arm, but he shook his head to clear his vision and refocused on the enemies. The fight was far from over.

Sybyll had pushed her opponent back long enough to disengage and run toward Galen. Even in the midst of fighting, her face held its typical silent intensity, though if Galen looked close enough, he could’ve sworn he saw the taint of anger. Her legs carried her to Galen like a leaf along the wind. Galen struggled to get to his feet, but the moment he put his weight on his feet, his arm throbbed again and forced him to his knees. He gnashed his teeth not in pain, but frustration. Frustration for being so weak, for falling to one blow, for managing nothing more than a lucky strike on an unaware opponent. He could even see the lamia he’d cut getting upright again, albeit slowly and clutching her chest.

Belvedan’s hand was still up and glowing, this time pointed at Galen. His throat caught, preventing him from cursing himself and he once again pumped strength into his legs. Sybyll wouldn’t make it in time. He had to dodge it himself! The pain from his arm exploded, almost making him black out. While he held onto consciousness, he couldn’t bring his pathetic body to move. All he could do now was hope that spell wasn’t meant to kill. Breath left his lungs.

“You should watch your back, snake-ass!”

All attention jerked to the voice, a holler coming from the air above and behind Belvedan. She spun as fast as she could, the violet light in her hand dying as she did, only to receive a face full of paw, delivered by a mid-air kick from a rapidly-descending Seira. The kick connected with such force Galen could hear the thud of paw-on-face from his spot down the road. Seira’s paw seized Belvedan’s face dragged it all the way to the ground. From the way the lamia’s body went limp, she was at the very least unconscious.

Seira tossed the lamia aside, holding out her paws and extending the claws as she walked toward the lead lamia. Her face was alight with a grin and her hips swayed with her stride. Her eyes diverted from the lamia only for a second to check on Galen and Sybyll, her mouth twitching when she saw him on his knees.

“What is this, the third time I’ve caught you girls unaware? I would’ve thought you’d caught on by now.” Her voice oozed confidence to the point of arrogance. She continued to alternatively curl and then straighten the digits on her right paw as she strutted forward.

“And three times we defeated you, though I see that wound on your wing has healed, Seira,” replied the lamia, her voice as rigid as iron. She was once again standing upright, but Galen could see her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. That earlier blow was still affecting her.

Seira’s eyes narrowed. “It’s convenient you three are here, really. I was just thinking about how I would pay you back for it!”

She launched herself forward, her foot-paws inches from the ground as her wings pumped. The injury must truly have healed for her to be using them like that. Her right paw clenched and opened, taking the first strike at the lamia. Claws, sharp and fierce, flashed in the moonlight, but were deflected by the lamia’s buckler. She stabbed with her short sword in a counterattack, but Seira side-stepped it and swung her left paw at the enemy’s face. Their speeds were incredible, especially with the lamia bearing such an injury. 

Seira’s attacks came in a blur, seemingly unconcerned with the lamia’s short sword. Her paw pads and fur must have offered enough protection to combat the bare blade. Galen would’ve kept watching, but Sybyll grabbed his attention when her fingers wrapped around his uninjured shoulder and pulled him to his feet. Pain assaulted him yet again, but with Sybyll there, he didn’t fall back down. When he looked up to give her a smile of thanks, he saw a strain in her countenance, like she was holding something within.

There were more important things to worry about, though. Seira was engaged a fight, one which Galen figured she should’ve won right away, but the lamia was still in it, if only just. Her willpower must have been countering the earlier cut by Toneruth. Furthermore, the other uninjured lamia was now speeding toward Seira. A two-on-one battle would end poorly for the one. He had to help!

He stepped forward, towards the fight, but the second his foot came down, the pain in his arm and shoulder ripped through him again. A flame scorched him under his skin. His blood felt like it would boil and explode. Only by depending on Sybyll’s support was he able to stay upright.

He could hardly stay conscious, much less fight. He would be of no help to Seira like this. He kicked at the ground, only to be rewarded with another nauseating wave of pain.

“Sybyll, go help her. I can’t,” he grumbled, letting his head sink in defeat.

“I am afraid my use has expired as well.”

“Huh?”

“In my last exchange with that lamia, she threw out a couple of test blows and lunges. I was unable to account for them and revealed my state. If I were to attempt to engage her again, she would ignore me.” Her eyes closed. “She was a worthy opponent.”

“Damnit!”

Galen let the curse loose from his lips, about to stomp his foot again before realizing the consequences of doing so. He settled for a grimace. All that work, the surprise attack, blocking the magic, taking that brutal first blow--all pointless. He started limping towards Seira as fast as his could, breaths loud and heavy as he fought to push the pain from his mind. Not even halfway there, however, his wearied legs missed a step, taking him to a knee and sending fresh pulses of agony through his arm. He tasted bile in the back of his throat. Raising his head, his wavering eyes witnessed Seira giving everything she could to fight off the two lamia.

This was it. Seira was going to die here and Galen would be able to do nothing about it. He would watch as his first friend from the mainland was butchered for protecting him. It wasn’t supposed to end like this! He screamed at his inadequacy and lowered his head.

“Stop!”

His head jerked back up, gaze locking on the owner of the voice. A group of about twenty guards had entered the street, all armored and bearing weapons. The lead, standing just in front of the group, repeated his command, but the blur of combatants did not stop or slow. To do so while engaged as they were would mean death.

Galen’s mouth finally remembered how to grin. While his arm and shoulder still roared at him, it took a backseat to enjoying the sight of guards. The leader charged forward, shouting for his guards to help him. They closed in on the lamia and Seira, surrounding the three and drawing weapons before taking any further action. The leader shouted something at the combatants, but Galen couldn’t make it out. He was too busy smiling.

That vanished when the guards struck.

The first two to enter the fray tackled Seira, completely ignoring the lamia. While one guard wasn’t enough to pull her down, the second’s momentum did the job. At the same time, a larger group rushed the lamia, holding their swords out and bringing the points within inches of the lamia’s skin. The lamia drew their bodies up, looming over the guards with weapons still out. Were they really planning on taking on such numbers? Did they think they could win?

Or was killing Seira that important?

Letting out a grunt, Galen forced himself back to his feet, his fingers digging into his injured shoulder.

“Wait! The manticore isn’t who you want!”

The guards gave Galen no attention. The lamia were a far greater threat. Even as Galen struggled his way toward Seira, the lamia continued to hiss and feint at the guards, pushing them back. The leader and the two who tackled Seira were binding her squirming form up despite Galen’s constant protests.

“She didn’t do anything! The lamia attacked us!”

Even with her struggling, the guards managed to tie Seira up and drag her away. She flashed Galen something between a glare and a plea with her eyes before the leader stepped in front of Galen, filling his vision.

“Any monsters that are going to be picking fights and making trouble in the streets of Fullsburg will be held accountable. Even monster sympathizers too, if they don’t stay quiet,” he said, a sneer marring his face.

“But you haven’t tied those lamia up!” Galen said, pointing.

The leader glanced over the lamia, seeing his guards were still having trouble with them. “Lamia are almost impossible to tie up. There’s not really much to bind, anyways.” He turned to the lamia, throwing out his chest. “You two are to leave the city straightaway! And take your friend with you. We don’t want your kind here!” He gestured to several of the guards. “These men will escort you out. You are henceforth banned from the city until you can offer appropriate compensation for your disruption.”

The lead lamia rushed up to the lead guard, stopping her face only a few feet from his. “We are here on orders from the monster lord herself. Do not dare to--“

“I couldn’t care less what some monster half the world away wants. In Fullsburg, monsters are punished when they act out. Be smart and take my generous offer. I won’t extend it again.”

Hissing, the lamia retreated, pushing through the line of guards surrounding her and her ally to pick up the third, unconscious, lamia and leave the scene, her ally right behind her. Before turning the corner she paused, narrowing her eyes at Galen. The message was clear.

He would have liked to say he just shrugged it off, but from the ache on his shoulder and the chill growing deep in his chest, he could tell he wouldn’t soon be forgetting that glare or the intent behind it. Swallowing, he laid a hand on his chest and took several even breaths, trying to calm his wild heart. Only when he was sure it wouldn’t explode in his chest did he look back to the lead guard. The leader’s interest in Galen and the lamia must’ve waned, for he was already on his way back with the group that had stopped the fight. Stumbling forward as fast as his burning shoulder would allow, he caught up to the leader.

“Hey, what’s going to happen to Seira?”

The leader threw Galen a look over his shoulder and scoffed. “She’s going to a holding cell where she can think about picking fights for a while. One or two of the jailers might have a chat with her, too. Depends on how fast she comes up with the fee to get out.”

“But she was only protecting me.”

He spun around, grabbing the front of Galen’s shirt and shoving his face into Galen’s. “Look, kid, if it were up to me, she’d rot down there, so don’t give me any more reason to make this worse for her. And stop wasting your breath on defending her. She’s a monster. She attacks men and rapes them. That’s what monsters do. I don’t know what you think you’ll get out of being nice to her, but I can tell you that from her, it won’t be anything but a good raping. And if you’re into that kind of filth then I just might take you in, too.” His grip tightened. “Understand?”

Galen’s breath came out red hot from his nostrils, his teeth grating together to keep him from saying something he’d knew he’d regret. How could this guy possibly have become a guard? Weren’t they supposed to protect people and monsters? He didn’t feel very protected.

“Fine. Where is the jail?”

The leader threw Galen back a few feet, flaring up the pain in his arm and almost causing him to fall on his back. “Like I know. Follow me if you want, but I don’t want to see your face any more.”

He left Galen with a grimace, meeting up with the rest of his group before disappearing around a corner.

The weight of the evening crashed upon Galen’s shoulders, sending him to his knees, then the ground. The stone bit his face with cold. The torches that lit the street licked at him as if laughing. Even the crisp, thick wind seemed to mock him, battering his bruised and beaten body while he was down. He stared at the ground, eyes blank, their blue sheen dulled. When saliva filled his mouth, he made no effort to swallow, letting it drool onto the uneven stones pressed against his face. 

So this is what failure tasted like.

The only grace he was afforded was an empty street. No one was around to witness his pathetic state, only himself and the night, and even it turned a pitying eye to him. The wind let up as if to apologize and the shadows took him in. Galen thought back to his father, waving at him from the pier, calling for him to return. Maybe he had seen this coming.

His brooding was interrupted by Sybyll when she grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him back up to a sitting position, her gleaming eyes inspecting his body. She patted certain spots on his body to check for bruises. When her claw grasped his injured shoulder, he gripped her claw, wincing.  
  
“What were you thinking, blocking that magical attack? Nothing affects me, you know this! And now your shoulder is injured!”

Galen let out a weak cough. “It’s the thought that counts.”

Sybyll’s face betrayed the tiniest frown. She stared silently at the foolish boy before her, her eyes losing that razor edge she so effortlessly maintained. The wind blew her golden hair across her face, but even then she didn’t blink. Galen wanted to wilt beneath that glare, but at the same time he wanted to brush that hair from her eyes and look at them more clearly. He heard her take in and release a deep breath before finally blinking and shifting her weight. With a shake of her head, she helped Galen up.

“There are more important things to worry about. Seira is in the hands of the guard, and those lamia now know we are with her, though we have bought some time by inflicting such injuries.”

“I helped!” said Galen, raising his hand with a smile. He rubbed his shoulder again. “But aren’t those lamia banished from the city now?”

“I would not put much faith in the guard’s ability to keep them out. Once their companion recovers, they will likely return for Seira.” Once she was sure Galen was steady on his feet, she turned to the spot they’d last seen the guards. “And you do not need to hide your disappointment.”

His smile flickered, but he kept it up. “Disappointment? This is just another adventure! Another challenge! All we have to do is get Seira out of there before the lamia come back, right?” He gave Sybyll a rigid thumbs-up. “No problem!”

Never had his tongue tasted such hollow words.

**Chapter 14**

Galen let out a sigh as the inn came into view. Adjusting his grip on his aching shoulder, he set off down the street, his scowl twisting into a smile. The buffeting evening wind had returned, numbing his exposed hands and cheeks with its chill. Sybyll maintained her place beside Galen, unaffected by the wind, her eyes ever-searching for danger while keeping track of Galen lest his injury overcome him again and bring him to his knees. Now that they were back on the main streets, Galen’s hobble and bruised body earned him a few stares. He dismissed them. There were more important things to be worrying about at the moment.

His brief elation deflated on closer inspection of the inn. Or, specifically, what lied right outside of it. He recognized his pack on the ground and right next to it a certain familiar red slime.

“Hi, Galen!” said Mino, hopping up to greet him. “That mean innkeeper grabbed everything from your room and was about to steal it but I stopped him!” She thrust her chest, hands at her hips. “He told me to ‘take you stupid pack and never come back’. He was mad about something.”

“Mad? About--“ Oh. Someone was supposed to watch the inn at night in exchange for the rooms. Galen checked the moon. It was well into the evening, probably not too long from midnight. Way past the time they were to stand guard. His chin fell to his chest and he sighed. Great. “Well, that’s okay.” He walked over to his pack and slung it over his uninjured shoulder. “Mino, we’re going to the jail to rescue Seira. She was taken by the guards. They thought she started a fight.”

Her face morphed into one of absolute horror. She certainly wasn’t one for hiding emotion. “Oh no! How did that happen?”

“Well, uh, she was kinda fighting in the middle of the street. I tried to convince the guards it wasn’t her fault, but they wouldn’t listen. So we have to go find whoever’s in charge at the jail and explain everything. Then they’ll let her go.”

“Your expectations may be a touch unrealistic,” said Sybyll.

Galen stopped in his tracks. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“I do not think an explanation will be sufficient to free Seira. We will need the fee.”

“Do you know how much that will be?”

“More than nothing, which is exactly what we have right now.”

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. At least, he tried to, but his shoulder protested quite violently when he moved the injured arm. A short yelp followed by a wince brought him to a knee. Sybyll and Mino were on him in an instant.

“We need to do something about that shoulder,” said Sybyll.

“What happened?” asked Mino.

“During the fight I, uh, half-blocked some kind of spell. Part of it ricocheted into my shoulder.” Galen’s face burned with embarrassment, but he knew there was no lying in front of Sybyll, who had likely seen the whole thing.

“Oh! I think I can help with that. Stand still,” said Mino.

“Wha--“ Galen’s question froze in his mouth when Mino slipped her hands under his shirt. She laid them directly on the injury. He heard the sound of softly-flowing water as the touch of Mino’s individual fingers melded into a single, cool stream of slime. It grew and spread to encompass his entire shoulder and part of his arm. The throbbing pain of his injury immediately began to subside, numbed and tamed by Mino’s body. After a few seconds, he felt his breathing slow into a more comfortable pace and his arm muscles relax. Mino’s touch was like pressing rushing water right up to his skin without actually getting it wet. At the same time, the chill from her body pervaded beyond the surface to his very bones.

When the burn from his shoulder had sufficiently dulled, Mino withdrew her slime, giving Galen a good squeeze before removing her hands and grinning. “Better?”

He blinked a few times, staring at his shoulder in disbelief. Did she somehow remove the magic? Or repair his muscles? “Y-yeah. How did you do that?”

“Slimes are--well, some slimes are empathetic monsters. Meaning, we can accept pain or disease from other monsters or people. With enough knowledge and training, we can do more than that and actually repair the root of the pain.” She scratched at her cheek. “I’m not too experienced myself, but the injury on your shoulder was fairly simple. I just needed to untangle the magic from the muscle and bone, then massage them back into their proper place.”

Galen smiled, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Sounds pretty impressive to me. Thanks.”

Giggling, she swayed back and forth. “You’re welcome.”

Galen punched his fists together, checking out his newly-healed shoulder. He nodded at the results, then turned to Sybyll. “So, about that fee…”

“Do you know where to acquire the money?”

“No. I was hoping you had an idea. You’re been around for a while, after all.”

“’Been around a while’, huh?” said Mino, attempting to shove her face into Sybyll’s. The height difference made it impossible. “How old are you?”

“Hmph.” Sybyll gave Mino only a glance before answering Galen. “There may be ways to earn the money we need. Knowing the guard who apprehended Seira, though, it is probable the fee is unreasonably high. We would need to find one or more jobs and carry them out; possible with time, but time we have not. Those lamia will be back, and I doubt the jailer will stop them.”

Galen lowed his head, scrunching up his face in thought. If they couldn’t come across money in time, and they couldn’t talk Seira out of this… what did that leave?

“We should break her out,” said Sybyll.

Yeah, that really was the only option left--wait, what? “Break her out?! Are you serious? These are the good guys we’re talking about here! We can’t just attack them!”

“Excuse my bluntness, but the ‘good guys’ have wrongly arrested and imprisoned Seira. They do not seem good at the moment.”

“Well, eh, everyone makes mistakes.”

Sybyll crossed her arms, her eyes glowing with intensity. “You’re making excuses for them.”

“Sybyll’s right!” said Mino, raising a finger. “Scary Seira is worth it.”

“I… uh…” Galen shifted in place, looking between Sybyll and Mino. They weren’t entirely wrong. In fact, they weren’t wrong any way he looked at it. The guard was holding an innocent monster and they didn’t have the time to get the money to pay for her release. If they didn’t take action, she’d be in serious trouble.

But Galen couldn’t deny that voice in the back of his head, ragging on his every thought. The guard protected citizens. They only jailed bad guys. Attacking them was wrong. Ever since birth, the rule was to respect authority. Have faith in the people that looked over you. Even in the stories his father told, the guard only helped the heroes. And if Galen went along with this, wouldn’t that make him a criminal? He bit his lower lip. What did Seira tell him? 

‘You must do what is necessary, no matter how things are ‘supposed’ to go, or what is ‘right’.’

Galen let out a sound not unlike a whimper, his eyes pleading with Sybyll to give him some other answer. All he got in return was the same narrow stare she always wore.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“Cheer up!” Mino placed a hand on his back. “We’re not bad guys, we’re just helping out a friend in a bad spot.”

He gave her a half-hearted frown. “That’s just putting a mask on it. We’re definitely bad guys.”

“Geez, no need to be such a downer.” She grabbed Galen’s hand in one of her slimy hands and pulled him along. “Let’s go!”

“You don’t happen to know where the jail is, do you?”

Mino stopped, still facing forward as she considered the question. “Well, we won’t find it standing around here!”

Galen allowed himself to be dragged along, staring at the back of Mino’s head and all the subtly squirming hair-tentacles that came out of it. He couldn’t shake the feeling he was in the wrong place, trailing behind Mino. Hadn’t he always been the brutally enthusiastic one? Why was it taking any sort of convincing to get him to go along with this? His head was heavy as bricks, his stomach churning with each step. Even his feet dragged heavier than normal. Sighing, he resigned himself to this role for now. Maybe when he got Seira back all of this would make sense. At least, that’s what he hoped.

Because he had no idea what to do if it didn’t.

  
**

  
Fortunately, Sybyll had some memory of where the jail was from when she had last been at Fullsburg. Her initial guess was a bit off, as the building she pointed out as the jail had since been turned into something else, but the true jail was just down the street. Galen had expected a cylindrical tower of dark stone, small windows spaced evenly along the outside, but in reality the jail stood no higher than the average building in the city, windows just like any other except with iron bars built in. That alone made the building intimidating enough for him to gulp as they approached. Torches, set in regular intervals around the outside and at entrances, lit the place, shadows flickering with the dancing flames. Two guards stood at the entrance, motionless, the only hint of life from them their faces in the shifting light. There weren’t as many guards as Galen expected. The yard in front of the building was empty and he didn’t see any patrols. Most of them must’ve been out on the streets or asleep.

As the group approached, Galen tugged at his collar. The looming shadow of the building made sense to set Galen with unease. They were soon-to-be criminals, after-all.

“If you would allow me, I believe I should be the one to speak with the guards,” said Sybyll, stepping in front.

“W-whatever you want.” He wanted to think he could handle this, but the pouring sweat and stutter assured him Sybyll would be the better choice. Besides, he didn’t have it in him to lie to a guard.

He tensed when they neared the guards at the front door, but they let them through without even batting an eye. Their first hurdle came soon after, with the guard manning the desk inside.

“What do a couple of monsters and a…” He sized Galen up, squinting over his body. “…a boy want with the jailer?”

“We wish to speak with an associate of ours.” Curt, to the point. Sybyll’s specialty.

‘Associate?’ thought Galen. That wasn’t exactly a nice way to describe Seira. Did Sybyll have some kind of beef with her?

The jailer leaned forward over the table. “And why should I let you speak with this ‘associate’? Monsters ain’t exactly known for their integrity. Gonna shake this associate down? Or maybe you’re plotting something?”

“We believe she has means to acquire the fee for her release. We simply need to ask her how.”

The jailer waved another guard over. He approached the table, his armor shifting and clanging against itself. “The fee? Well, that’s a language I can understand. Who’s this associate of yours?” The jailer pulled out a book, a ledger, Galen assumed, and waited for an answer.

“A manticore. She was just taken in this evening.”

“Ah! That crazy bitch. She ain’t one for being tied up. Probably likes doing the tying. Pricked one of the men bringing her in with one of those spines of her. Nasty stuff. Guy’s still recovering in the barracks. He was a quivering mess last I saw him.” He pointed out an entry in the book to the guard he fetched and the guard nodded. “Unfortunately for her, attacking the guard raised her fee a touch. It’ll be a gold piece to get her out.”

Galen watched Mino’s and Sybyll’s faces. He’d never had experience with money, so he had no idea how much a gold piece was. From what he saw, the news wasn’t good.

“Pricked him with a spine?” asked Galen. Those small, off-white spikes on her tail came to mind.

“Yeah. We didn’t know manticores could shoot ‘em out so fast and so accurately. Figured they were more like daggers they pulled out of their tails. She struck him right in the neck and that poison hit him like a truck. By the time we got the jail, he’d already let loose in his armor just from the friction of walking.” He chuckled. “Shame we can’t pluck those things off of her and sell ‘em.”

“One gold is a rather high fee,” said Sybyll.

“She’s worth it. Besides, you said she’ll know how to get it. I can wait.” He pointed to the guard behind him. “Joab here will take you to her. Take as long as you want, but she,” he said, pointing to Mino, “can’t go with you. Jails don’t agree with slimes.”

Mino grumbled, latching onto Galen’s arm and looking into his eyes with a pleading gaze. He frowned, then pointed her outside. “Nothing we can do about it, Mino. Just wait.”

She pouted, but released Galen. “Fine.”

Instead of a hallway to the back, like Galen expected, the guard took them down a stairwell to the basement. The stone walls radiated an alien chill offset only by the occasional torch. No one spoke on the way down. The basement was much the same as the stairwell: cold and dulled. At least a dozen cells lined the walls of the basement, with one much larger, sturdier cell at the far end. Each had little more than some hay and a bucket inside, and a wretched stench came from each. It wasn’t all that spacious, but in the middle of the room there was enough space for a table and a couple benches. Near the top of the back wall of each cell was a window, wider than it was tall, thick iron bars the only barrier between the cell and the outside world. Currently, one guard sat at a table in the middle of the basement, though from the looks of it he was fast asleep.

Galen sewed his lips shut and glued his teeth together, lest he somehow let slip their plan. Even if the guard leading them hadn’t given any indication of suspicion, Galen feared he already knew everything and was just playing along to see how far they would get. He almost reached out to Sybyll and told her to call it off, but clenched his hand into a fist and held his fright in.

The guard walked up to one of the cells, rattled his armor across the bars and said, “Visitors.” He then turned to Sybyll and Galen. “Try not to take forever. I’ll be over near the stairs to give you a little privacy, but just cause I won’t be listening, don’t think I won’t be watching.” He added a glare to the end of his second statement, then walked off to the stairs, leaving Galen and Sybyll with Seira.

Seira’s dark sienna-brown fur was stained to the point of blackness, damp with something, though the smell it gave off didn’t remind Galen of water. Bruises dotted her stomach and arms, and her hair flailed about, unkempt but for that familiar braid of hers. When he looked to her eyes, though, that’s when he truly recognized her. Despite all the guard had done to her, she still held that fiery, almost cocky glare.

She walked up to the bars and smirked. “Couldn’t even go a few hours without me, could you?”

Galen rushed up to the bars and grabbed one of her paws, causing a sudden stiffness to shock her body and widen her eyes. It passed within a second. “This isn’t the time for joking around! They messed you up and now you’re stuck in jail!”

Her smirk deepened. “Are you really so concerned about me?” The paw that Galen had seized gripped him back, squeezing harder and harder until Galen winced. “I’ve been flying solo for a long while. A few disgruntled guards and some iron bars won’t do me in.”

“No, but a few certain lamia will!”

Her smarmy look vanished. “They got away, huh. Figured the guards wouldn’t want to tangle with them.”

“They said they were on orders from the monster lord herself,” said Sybyll, stepping forward.

“Ah.” Seira nodded, looking down to the paw holding Galen’s hands. She released him, gripping the iron bars in front of her. “They did say that, didn’t they?”

Sybyll’s eyes narrowed. “This has come to the point I must ask your identity or at least their purpose. Your silence has endangered the wielder.”

“Sybyll--!” said Galen, tugging at her arm.

“’The wielder?’” said Seira. “You mean Galen? He’s right there, you know.”

“That does not change my demand.”

“Sybyll, really! She doesn’t have to tell if she doesn’t want to!” Galen tugged at her again, trying to pull her away from the cell or at least break that iron gaze of hers.

“Galen,” said Seira.

“Huh?”

She turned toward the cell’s back wall, face creasing from a grimace. Taking a few steps toward the window, she clenched her paws so tight Galen could hear it. “While she phrased it in something of an odd fashion, she isn’t wrong.” She turned her head back to Galen and Sybyll. “But that information won’t come free. Get me out of this cell, and when we leave the city, I’ll tell you everything.”

Galen stepped forward until he was inches from the cell bars. “Seira, you don’t have to tell us anything you don’t want to.”

“Hmph. No need to tell me things I already know. But this is something I wish to tell you. So get me out of here fast.”

“No problem, Scary Seira!”

The group’s attention all locked on to the source of the voice. Mino was just outside the window, waving a slimy hand at everyone inside with a grin that literally surpassed the boundaries of her face.

Seira growled. “What are YOU doing here?”

“Helping, of course!” She grabbed one of the thick iron bars over the window. Her hands lost their form and Mino fed more of her body into grasping the bar. Not long after, a subtle sizzling sound filled the air. “Those guards said I couldn’t stick around, but it’s easy to sneak back in when you’re nothing more than a puddle!”

“What are you doing with those bars?” asked Galen.

“Dissolving them. Slimes can make their bodies super acidic when they need to! I think it’s supposed to be used for melting humans and absorbing them, since we can use that for food if we need to, but I never liked the idea.” A tentacle grew out of her body and wrapped around a second iron bar, adding to the hissing sound.

Seira grumbled something under her breath, crossing her arms and kicking at the straw on the floor. Galen did his best to keep his excitement below the surface, but his face grew into a grin on its own and his hands unconsciously closed into fists, his knuckles white with effort. Sybyll gave the guard in the stairwell a glance, but he hadn’t moved from his spot. 

Sweat poured down Galen’s face. A heat flared up in his chest, swallowing any words he might have had, his gaze fixed on the grinning slime outside. Could they really pull this off? Could things really be so simple? A gulp ran down his throat and he looked to Sybyll.

“Where should we meet?” Sybyll asked.

“Uh, meet?” said Galen.

“We certainly won’t be leaving in the same fashion as Seira, and she can’t simply walk out of here. So we’ll need a place to meet afterwards.”

“Outside the city sounds fine to me. I’ve had enough of this place,” said Seira with a shrug.

“Can you make it that far?” asked Galen.

She raised an eyebrow at him, extended her wings, and pointed at them.

“Oh. Right. Forgot about those.”

“Very well. Which gate?” said Sybyll.

“How about a mile north of the city? Doesn’t matter which gate you go out, a mile north is a mile north,” said Seira.

Sybyll nodded, then looked to Galen. Wetting his dry lips with his tongue, he looked back and forth between them, then nodded. “Sounds fine to me.”

A clink grabbed their attention. The first bar, now horribly worn and chewed through at the ends, came free. Mino pulled it outside with her, set it down, and devoted her entire attention to the second bar. “You should be able to fit out once I get this one.” She frowned at Seira. “But your cans are awfully big for this opening.”

“My c--“ Seira looked down at her chest, then back to Mino, blushing. “Shut up about my cans and clear the damned window!”

Mino giggled, but returned to her work. The hissing intensified along with her gaze. Everyone now stared at the bar, willing it to break off as if it would help it move along faster. Galen tuned out everything but the beating of his heart and the hissing of Mino’s slime on that bar. C’mon, c’mon…

It broke free.

This time, however, when it came off, Mino wasn’t able to get a good grip on it. Seira rushed forward to catch the iron bar, but was a second too late. It hit the floor without a resounding clang, drawing a gasp from Galen, a wince from Mino, and a growl from Seira.

“What was that?” The guard from the stairs started over.

“N-nothing! Nothing at all! My friend just has a really bad… cough,” said Galen, moving to intercept.

“That sounded like metal, not a cough. Get out of the way.” He pushed Galen aside roughly and looked inside the cell. He was treated to the sight of Seira hovering in mid-air, right next to the window, about to squeeze through.

Time froze in Galen’s head. His lungs ceased. The air solidified like cooling metal. His muscles turned to iron, his gaze to stone. He took in everything around him all at once and crystallized it in his mind. The back of the guard’s head stared at him, asking him to strike. The situation had just passed beyond any semblance of control. If the guard got help, the rest of them would be in cells and of no use to Seira. Sybyll, as she was, could be of no help. There was no choice. He had to take that guard down and he had to do it now.

As time resumed and his hand flew to his sword, something else rose within him. What had this guard done to him? What had this guard done to anyone, except his job? How could it be the right choice to attack the good guy?

What makes this right?

“We’ve got an--“

The guard yelled out but his voice cut off when the broken blade of Toneruth went straight into his head. Galen cringed as he withdrew the blade, even seeing no blood and knowing the guard was merely asleep. His doubts had given the guard time to call out. He spun to the stairwell, cursing himself under his breath, Toneruth held out, but no one came running.

“Hurry up!”

Galen turned back to the cell at Mino’s voice, seeing Seira doing her best to squeeze through the window. He got a nice view of her wiggling rear as she squirmed with only her head and shoulders through so far.

“I’m trying, you stupid slime!”

“I TOLD you your cans were too--“

“SHUT UP ABOUT MY STUPID CANS! Who the hell calls them ‘cans’, anyways?”

Her legs kicked at the air and her wings clung to her back as snug as possible. Her claws scraped at the stone, trying to get a hold to push off of, but the angle was too awkward for her to get the leverage she needed. Mino reached down to help, but Seira pushed her back.

“Don’t touch me, I can do this on my own! Just keep watch.”

Mino grumbled, but left Seira alone. Squeezing the cell bars, Galen silently cheered Seira on, watching as she slowly slipped more and more of her body through the window. When her chest—tits included—was at its widest, she was forced to blow out all the air from her lungs. Galen couldn’t deny a tiny bit of satisfaction in seeing those bouncy bulbous breasts of hers shift about. Once they were through, she had room to spread her wings as well and used them to push off. With a good grasp on the ground now, Seira yanked the rest of her body through, grunting as she came free of the window. Galen hopped up and down, half-smiling at her victory, his heart thumping to fast to let his elation run loose.

She turned around and gave Galen a thumbs up, grinning, and took off. Mino followed quickly after.

“We should leave as well,” said Sybyll, putting her hand on Galen’s shoulder. “We are fortunate this guard did not wake up and would be wise to not press our luck further.”

“Wake up?” He looked around the room, spotting the other guard, asleep at the table in the center of the room. “Oh. I totally forgot about him.” At Sybyll’s beckoning, he started toward the stairs, pausing after stepping over the guide guard’s body. Bending over, he propped the guard up into a more comfortable sitting position, frowning at his unconscious face before standing back up. “He’ll be fine, right?”

“I see no reason why not. Toneruth never kills without such intent, and even then, only in certain circumstances.”

Galen sighed, trying to let out the tension with his breath. They had good reasons for this, and they weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, they were saving Seira, his friend, someone who had helped him out of trouble three times now. Their actions were no more evil than taking a drink of water.

So why did his heart keep sinking in his chest?

Sybyll lead the way up the stairs, their walk in silence, just as it was on the way down. Galen kept his eyes on her back, his hand grasping Toneruth’s hilt, and his legs moving forward. That’s all he could do. His body moved on its own, his thoughts numb and unwelcome. The air thickened around him, pressing on his shoulders like some invisible burden. Right foot, left foot, one after another. His hand twitched. His ears grew hot. Was that anxiety still nibbling at him?

Sybyll took him past the stairs, past the entrance area and all the way up to the door before a voice snapped him out of his daze.

“Where’s the guard that took you downstairs?” It was the jailer they’d first spoke with.

“He is still down there, speaking with the other guard,” said Sybyll.

“That punk,” said the jailer, getting to his feet. Galen would’ve stayed to watch had Sybyll not grabbed his wrist and pushed him to the door. He started moving again, her guiding hand on his back. They made it back to the main street before they heard a holler coming from behind.

The words that chased them set their feet aflame.

**Chapter 15**

The arrow blew by Galen’s ear with a rush of wind, forcing him to duck in a knee-jerk reaction. He stumbled, almost losing his feet, but Sybyll steadied him before he fell. Three more arrows hit the streets amongst them, bouncing off the cobblestone with a noise that did not do their danger justice. Galen kept pumping his legs and swinging his arms, willing his body to go beyond its limits and flying along the cobblestone roads, slowing only to take sharp turns. His sprint briefly reminded him of his departure from Nox, his body practically floating atop the whirlwind of his legs. As fast as he ran, Sybyll kept just in front of him with ease. Her body moved with no urgency, those slender legs of her giving her a longer, more comfortable stride. Corded muscles revealed themselves with each step. In any other situation, Galen might have found himself feeling self-conscious about it.

The arrows nipping his heels just seemed more important at the moment.

“You know the way out, right?” said Galen, his voice rushed and wearied.

“Certainly. It isn’t far.”

They took another hard corner, Galen almost slipping on the uneven road, but he compensated in time to resume his run. The poorly-lit street held many hazards, though Sybyll hardly seemed affected by it. She threw a glance over her shoulder, prompting Galen to do the same. He immediately regretted it.

Twenty or so guards were not far behind them, most clad in some form of armor, many holding torches. Those who weren’t holding torches had crossbows or bows and were loading them as best they could at a run. The clamor from their armor made Galen think of an overpowering tidal wave looming over him, about to crash downward and bury him in its fury. He turned back forward, clenching his teeth, hoping Sybyll wasn’t lying about the exit being not far.

It turned out the gates were just around the next corner. Galen’s glee at seeing them died out rather quickly, however. They were closed and sealed, a dozen armed guards blocking the road in front of them. Word must have traveled faster than Galen’s and Sybyll’s feet could take them. Dread washed over him like someone upturning a bucket-full atop his head. His face eroded into horror at the sight, even if his legs kept dragging him forward. This must be his recompense, he figured. He never should’ve attacked that guard.

“Keep moving!” said Sybyll, picking up speed.

“But the gate is closed!”

“Look up!”

Galen did as ordered, finding two large, gooey tentacles whipping down from the top of the city walls in front of him. One went for Sybyll but passed straight through her while the other coiled itself around Galen’s waist. He yelped in surprise at being taken off his feet, still kicking at the air as if still on the ground. Sybyll glanced backward to make sure he was secured, then took off for the gate. Gripping the tentacle around his waist, Galen looked up to where it was coming from, trying to make out a figure, if any. Mino’s face popped out of the slime in front of him with that gleeful smile of hers.

“Don’t worry, Galen! I’ve got this all taken care of.” She frowned down at Sybyll. “I can’t touch her, though.”

Galen had to swallow and blink to compose himself enough to speak. “She’ll be fine, nothing can touch her.”

“Alrighty! Here we go!” Mino’s face disappeared back into the tentacle. Whatever she was doing, it must have required a lot of concentration.

The tentacle swung him forward until he was just about to hit the line of guards in front of the gate. At the apex of the swing, he had to cover his mouth to keep from emptying his stomach. A cruel backlash snapped his head forward as the tentacle swung a full arc clockwise, flinging Galen over the wall with such force his sense of balance took a second to catch up. The wind tore across his body, scraping against his skin like sand. It would’ve forced him to close his eyes, too, had he not been so frightened by the concept of closing them. His breaths came out rapid and heavy. Mino detached herself from the city wall, her body rushing up to slam into Galen in a gooey hug. She retook her usual form, wrapping Galen up in hands, legs, and hair tentacles, shouting with glee as they soared. 

It was right about then he passed out.

  
**

  
With the mix of strong, quick lizardmen legs, the shock of Galen being suddenly snatched up by Mino’s tentacle, and the guard’s inability to phase through the gate they’d so intently been defending, Sybyll was able to leave any pursuit in the dust before she even hit the first hill that put the city out of view. Her sprint took her straight to where she figured Galen would have landed after she saw his limp form flying through the sky along with Mino. She urged her legs faster when she spotted the two--Galen was lying on the ground, unmoving, with Mino kneeling beside him.

Mino noticed her approach and smiled, waving her over. Narrowing her eyes, Sybyll ran to his other side, letting out a heavy breath as she dropped to a knee. She laid a claw on his chest, her muscles relaxing when she felt his chest rise and fall. Turning to Mino, she asked, “What happened?”

“I think our short flight was a little too much for him. He conked out shortly after it started. The landing went just fine, though. He shouldn’t have any broken bones.”

Sybyll moved her claw to Galen’s forehead. “‘Shouldn’t’ have any broken bones?”

Mino smiled bashfully and looked away, scratching her cheek. “I’ve never really landed like that with a human before. I think I cushioned it enough.”

Sybyll shook her head. “He appears well for the moment. I don’t detect any injuries but it will take a more thorough examination to be sure. For now, we should meet up with Seira.” She reached for Galen’s body to pick him up, but paused when she noticed her breathing. Looking down to her chest, she laid a claw between her breasts, feeling her chest rise and fall. Her breath rate was slightly elevated. The corners of her mouth curled downward subtly a moment before she renewed the steel gaze on her face. Slipping one arm under Galen’s shoulders and the other under his knees, Sybyll lifted him off the ground with ease. “Come,” she said, and started toward the meeting spot with Seira.

Mino walked beside Sybyll with a bounce to her step. “Why couldn’t I touch you, but you can touch Galen?” 

“That is up to Galen whether he wishes to share that or not.”

“But I’m his friend, too!”

“I am sure. Nevertheless, it is not my choice.”

Mino jumped in front of her, walking backwards as she spoke. “You know, you have a choice about sharing that, too. It’s about your body, right? So you should be able to choose who to tell.”

Sybyll’s golden eyes fixed on Mino’s, their stare rock-steady. She delved into Mino’s thoughts through the stare she received back, but couldn’t find what she was looking for.

Adjusting Galen’s body in her grasp, she let out a weak grunt and raised her gaze toward her destination. Seira’s attitude was better than Mino’s. While the manticore may have had hidden agendas and secrets, at least her methods were straight-forward and understandable. Mino was a mixed bag of strange and stranger.

The walk to their meeting spot wasn’t long. Mino’s toss had carried her and Galen about half the distance already. The rough wind and whistling hills kept the two company on their trek. Though night swallowed the land, Sybyll’s lizardman eyes took enough in from the moonlight to see without much difficulty. Not a tree laid in sight, only miles of plains, the grass flowing in waves with the wind. Thick pollen itched at Sybyll’s nose, earning another shallow frown from her. Tellus’ power was definitely growing.

Sybyll spotted Seira sitting atop a hill, the long grass hiding her below her breasts. Sybyll could make out the twitching ears and swishing tail of Seira’s form as the manticore jogged down the hill to greet them, laying a paw on Galen’s chest much like Sybyll had. She visibly relaxed at feeling him breathe, but kept some tension in reserve. Probably for the slime accompanying them.

“What happened with him?” Seira asked, looking to Sybyll.

“Passed out from the surprise flight Mino took him on. I believe he is fine but I would like to make sure.”

“’Surprise flight’?” Seira arched her eyebrows. “Since when could he fly?”

“Since today!” said Mino, squeezing her face in between the two. “It was loads of f--“

Seria interrupted her by seizing her entire face with a paw and shoving her face into Mino’s. “If you did ANYTHING to him, I swear by the great demon I will end you!”

Mino nodded, but Sybyll suspected under that paw grabbing her face, she was smiling.

“Seira,” said Sybyll.

The manticore turned to Sybyll.

“The guards had blocked off the gate. There was no feasible method to remove Galen from the city without extreme measures. He is out here, now, and alive.”

“Are you defending her?” Vitriol seeped from her voice.

“I am stating facts of which you were not aware. Your intense criticism of Mino may not be warranted.”

Seira sneered, appraising Mino for a few seconds before releasing her grip on Mino’s face. Stepping back, Mino lowered her head. At least she had the sense to keep this from escalating. Perhaps she realized the situation she was in, now that they had left the city and Galen wasn’t awake to defend her. Still, whatever grudge Seira had for slimes must’ve been well-ingrained for her to turn on the one who freed her from the cell without hesitance.

Or maybe it was her concern for Galen that incited her so?

Sybyll looked down to Galen’s face, his eyelids motionless and his lips pried open just enough for her to see the glint of moisture in his mouth. His breaths came out slow and steady, a rhythm he’d been hard-pressed to find for the last day. Between Mino showing up, the talk with the information trader, the fight with the lamia and the subsequent trip to rescue Seira, his heart and lungs had been put to the test. Perhaps the escape from the city had been the final straw. He was a stronger man than his initial appearance gave him credit for, that was certain.

“Sybyll.”

“Hmm?” It was Mino.

“You’re smiling.”

“Am I?” She froze her face in place, trying to visualize what it must look like at the moment, but she didn’t feel a smile.

The statement grabbed Seira’s attention as well, her curious eyes scanning Sybyll’s face but fading after she searched. “I don’t see it. Must’ve been seeing things. She never smiles.”

Mino tugged at her arm. “But I did see it, even if it was just a little one.”

“I will trust you on that.” Huh. How about that. She didn’t feel particularly happy at the moment. It was good to see Galen alive and the group together once more, but there were still things to do. “Did you see any shelter on the way here?” Almost as if listening, the wind picked up, tickling Sybyll’s skin with its chill.

Seira shook her head. “Afraid not. Just plains. We’ll have to trek a while before we find anything.”

“Very well.” Going to a knee, she gently set Galen down and removed his pack, then began to pull of his shirt. Seira’s eyes went wide and she ducked down, grabbing Galen’s shirt to stop her.

“Woah! What are you doing?”

“If there is no suitable shelter, I will need to check for internal injuries here. It would be best to do so before they can cause serious damage.” She waited for Seira to remove her paws, then finished taking off his shirt. Afterwards she moved to his pants and did the same. An audible swallow came from Seira, but Sybyll ignored it. Mino had taken up spot at Galen’s head, propping it up on her legs while she sat cross-legged. Sybyll started at his most important organs, laying a claw atop his heart and her ear on his chest. She checked his lungs, then his stomach and kidneys, using a combination of her link with Galen through Tellus, her ears, and the reactions from his body when she applied pressure at certain points. From there she moved to his head, then his arms, and finally finished with his legs. Mino was content to watch the entire time while idly massaging his scalp with her hands. Seira stood watch, keeping her eyes on the horizon. Her tail coiled around her leg and her ears kept twitching, though Sybyll couldn’t tell if it was the wind or something she heard.

Finally, Sybyll withdrew from Galen, laying her arms across her knees and nodding. “He is well. There are no internal injuries.”

Mino pumped her fist and let out a drawn-out, “Yes!”

Seira’s tail unwound itself from her leg, but she didn’t give Galen or Sybyll more than a glance. “Good. Would’ve been a real pain trying to fix him up out here.”

“True.” Sybyll turned to Mino. “But you said you have some healing ability, did you not?”

Mino’s hands balled up into fists and her hair tentacles started to squirm as she rotated back and forth. “Some. I might be able to fix some bones, but if his ribs got in his stomach or other stuff I might not be up to it. I don’t have much experience.”

“You stated as much earlier. But even that will be of help.”

“I wouldn’t rely on it, Sybyll. She’s probably just making things up,” spat Seira, still standing watch.

Sybyll’s eyes bore a hole in the back of Seira’s head. Seira’s attitude toward Mino was certainly irrational, though it wasn’t without a grain of truth. They hadn’t yet seen Mino heal broken bones, only remove magic from them. The most preferred option would be to have Galen never break bones, but that was too much to hope for, Sybyll knew.

“Seira,” came a weak voice.

Sybyll’s gaze snapped to Galen, now awake and looking up to Seira. Seira hopped over, getting on her knees next to Galen. She rested her paws in her lap and stared at him with a hint of a smirk, but Sybyll could see her paws scratching her legs idly, the other corner of her mouth trying to curl upward, and her ears twitching like crazy.

“Don’t be so hard on Mino.”

Her claws dug into the fur on her knees and the smirk vanished. She said, “Fine,” but with a growl undertone.

Sybyll shot Mino a sidelong glance. The slime was currently playing with Galen’s hair, daring only second-long peeks at Seira to gauge her mood. Some sort of encounter was fated between the two; it was only a matter of time. Hopefully her earlier words to Galen had gotten through to him, but she decided she wouldn’t not bring the subject up again unsolicited. The decision on how to deal with them was up to him.

“Umm, why am I stripped to my underwear? It’s kinda cold…”

“I apologize,” said Sybyll, grabbing his pants and shirt and handing them back to him, “I needed to check your body for injury and removing your clothing was necessary.”

“Thanks.” His hand gripped her claw as he took his clothing back. He hesitated, his eyes ceasing in concern a moment before he stood up and began dressing. As expected, he was beginning to read the signs. Not enough to speak on it yet, however.

Galen finished dressing, gave a yawn, and swung his pack back on. “So, Seira, I think you owe us a little story now that we’re out of the city.”

Sighing, Seira lowered her head. She gave herself a moment of silence before standing up and nodding. “Yes, I do.” Looking out to the moon, she squinted as if she could make out the dust and rock on its surface. “I’ll tell it while we walk north.”

“North?” asked Galen.

Seira stood up, brushing the dust off her fur. “Yes. Because that is where our next destination lies.”

“But Posiden and Uuluth are both near the eastern shore. Shouldn’t we head east?”

Seira shook her head. “I’ll explain. Let’s go.” Without waiting for further argument, she started north.

Galen shrugged and yawned, then took off after her with Mino in tow. Sybyll followed close behind, keeping an eye on the other three and occasionally tossing a glance behind. The chance of someone following them was almost nothing… but almost nothing still wasn’t nothing.

“Well, if I’m telling you about myself, I guess I should start at the beginning.” She eyed Mino, grimacing a second before shifting her gaze to Galen. “I was born to Gladiel the second a hundred and fifteen years ago in a small monster settlement southwest of Uuluth. My family was pretty large; eight sisters in all. I could tell you all their names but that isn’t really relevant. What is relevant is that my mother had ambitions with such a large family, and soon all her daughters, me included, shared that with her.

“See, the title of monster lord has been in flux for the past four hundred years. When Suusuub II fell to Solvet, it created a great void. Suusuub III tried to fill it, but she had none of the qualifications of her mother, and her sisters wanted the position besides. When Solvet finally died and the following raid of Silere failed to reveal Toneruth’s location, monster leadership fell to chaos. The first to die were Suusuub III and her sisters, followed by countless others of which I’ve no doubt history will forget.

“My sisters had been traveling the land, gathering allies, information, and weapons. They also earned valuable combat experience.” Seira stretched her arms out and ran a paw down the back of her head. “While I was yet too young, my mother had still been training me. I was never the best fighter or the smartest strategist in my family, but my mother still trained me the best she could. Writing, reading, geography, combat, war--she left no stone unturned. My father helped as well where he could, but he never quite shared the ambition my mother held.” She shrugged, opening her paws. “Who knows how they ended up together as they did.” Her arms fell back to her sides, swinging as she walked. “Shortly after I turned fifteen, my mother decided it was time to strike, to end the chaos surrounding the monster lord title. 

“The monster lord at the time--or, should I say, the monster who called herself monster lord--was a medusa by the name Buisuub.” She looked down to Galen. “You’ve probably noticed by now how monster lords like to have ‘suub’ in their name. Changing one’s name to include ‘suub’ is an informal tradition since the reign of Suusuub I, considered the greatest monster lord of all time. Her reign lasted nearly a thousand years--far longer than any other monster in history. The monster species knew its best relations with man under her, but things quickly declined after that. But you’re not here for a history lesson. The medusa Buisuub only won the title by killing the monster lord before her. She didn’t have the proper connections, the strong attitude, leadership, or even ambition required to hold the role. My mother had all those things.

“I wish I had been old enough to comprehend everything coming together. I can only imagine it as a careful net woven around the monster lord’s castle, each thread meticulously laid over the years, and the trap sprung within an instant. Buisuub’s force holding the monster lord’s fortress was meager. A pity for her, considering how difficult it is to get in when properly defended. I won’t bore you with the details of the fight, but my mother’s allies and her were victorious. Quite overwhelmingly, if I do say so myself. With the alliances we’d set up, the fortress we lived in, and the cunning mind of my mother, we were set for a good long life at the top of the food chain.” She crossed her arms. “And it was that way, for a while.” She shook her head, then looked at Galen. “The lamia. We thought we’d accounted for them. They were a proud race of combat-able monsters, much more willing to stick together for a cause than, say, the arachnes. We tried to bring them to our side, to rule the monsters with unity like Suusuub, but someone else had gotten to them first. A medusa, one by the name Medusuub.” Her face twisted into a snarling smile. “Arrogant for a monster not yet confirmed as monster lord to take that name. She proved good for it, though, when she took the rule out from under my mother. A combination of a stealth attack along with arranged treacheries by monsters in our trust.

“My entire family but me died within a night. I, the youngest, got away only through my father’s sacrifice. That was thirty years ago.” The air thickened with silence as the taste of Seira’s last words left her tongue. 

A past of conflict. Sybyll expected as much, though the fact that it reached all the way to the current monster lord was impressive. 

Galen laid a hand on Seira’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about your family…”

“Mmm.”

“…But you’re a really bad storyteller.”

Sybyll’s eyebrows raised a touch. Seira’s went up past her brow straight off her face. Her stride broke. “W-what? Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, you glazed over a ton of the good stuff, and when you got to the end, you didn’t give a satisfying ending!” He grabbed one of Seira’s paws with both hands. “Like, who betrayed you? How exactly did Medusuub and her force get in? What was the fight like when you took the castle and when you lost it? What were your sisters like? I wanna know more!”

Crossing her arms, Sybyll peered at Seira’s face, watching it twist between anger, shock, and befuddlement. It wasn’t often she had the opportunity to see someone so staunchly conflicted, and from what she knew of Seira, she guessed it didn’t happen to her very often at all.

Seira settled on shock spiced with sadness. “Well… well, that information isn’t important. I told you I would tell you who I was, and I’ve done that. Besides, detailing everything you mentioned would take forever.”

“I have time. You do too,” said Galen, poking her belly.

She swatted his hand away. “No, it’s boring. If you really want to know more, ask Sybyll. I’m sure she knows. This was pretty important stuff in the monster world when it happened.”

When Galen turned to Sybyll, she shook her head. “I’m afraid not. I was asleep as all of this was occurring.”

Seira shot her a look as if to say, ‘Really?’ Sybyll met it with a nod.

“How long were you asleep?” asked Seira.

A whisper of hesitance rose up within Sybyll’s head as she opened her mouth to answer. Where it came from, she did not know. “Nearly four hundred years.”

“Woah,” said Galen and Mino both at the same time. Sybyll glanced over to the slime; she’d almost forgotten she was there.

“I didn’t know lizardmen hibernated,” he added.

“They don’t.” Seira crossed her arms, eyes narrowing. “What caused you to sleep for so long?”

Lowering her head, Sybyll considered the question. Now was probably too early to give them the answer. Not only for Seira and Mino, but especially Galen. There was still much to teach him and a long journey for him to travel before she could delve into specifics. She would know through Tellus when it was time.

“I cannot speak to that now. Hopefully later.”

“Secrets?” Galen stretched his arms and yawned. “I wanna know even more now!”

“Me too!” said Mino, holding her hands in fists against her chest.

“Whatever floats your boat,” said Seira. She placed her paws on the back of her head and continued north, grabbing Galen’s and Mino’s attention away from Sybyll as they resumed their walk. The lizardman snorted silently to herself. Galen might not put too much effort to figuring out the secret beyond persistent questioning, but from the look on Seira’s face before she turned around, she likely already had her suspicions. The years certainly added up nicely when one examined it close enough.

Galen began his next statement with a long yawn. “So why are we heading north, then?”

“Because I need to get into the monster lord’s castle, and in order to do that, I need to break the seals on the entrances. Seeing as none of us are able to break magical seals, we’ll need to find someone who can.” Her voice deepened. “And that someone we’ll find in Mallus.”

“Huh? Mallus?”

“Northeast of here. In the Scorched Lands.”

“The Scorched Lands? That sounds… nice…”

Galen’s voice trailed off as his body went slack. Seira, Sybyll, and Mino were all there before he hit the ground, Mino and Seira on opposite shoulders and Sybyll holding his sides from behind. They all checked his face, finding him fast asleep and lightly snoring. Sybyll blinked. Such a thing was expected. Surprising enough he made it so long, given the circumstances.

“He’s had a long day, huh?” said Mino. “Should we stop here for the night?”

“No,” said Seira, a discernable edge on her voice. “We should put as much ground as possible between us and Fullsburg. The guard won’t chase, but those lamia will.”

“Also, I would prefer to find shelter before stopping,” Sybyll added. “We may be immune or resistant to this cold wind, but Galen is not. Should we be unable to find something, we’ll need to use other methods to keep him warm. Seeing as Mino and myself do not naturally produce body heat, that would leave--”

Seria’s paws came off Galen instantly. “He’ll be fine!” she squawked.

Sybyll closed her eyes and allowed herself the tiniest smile before leaning over and picking Galen up like she had earlier. “I can carry him. Let us continue.”

“Are you sure?” said Mino. “I can carry him, too.”

“I have little to worry about as far as fatigue goes. Do not concern yourself.”

“Okay.”

The three set out along the plains, Seira setting a brisk but sustainable pace. Hills upon hills, seemingly without end, set themselves upon the group. The tall grass tickled Sybyll’s legs where her scales ended and skin began. A cool, thin wind rushed by and about them, tossing her hair about, almost as if trying to remove the stubborn ponytail she always wore. The heavy scent of pollen had cleared, leaving the air empty of any one prevalent smell. She adjusted her grip on Galen to pinch her nose when a chill nipped at it, flaring her nostrils in an attempt to chase the cold away. Mino chuckled at Sybyll’s facial expression, a light laughter that carried easily in the wind. Sybyll gave a mental shrug. Screwing up her face was the sort of thing she’d expect Mino to find amusing.

Sybyll had seen wide plains like this before. In fact, with meditation on the subject, she felt a touch of familiarity. It’d been so many years since she’d seen home, and those memories now lied broken or fractured, but her senses wouldn’t let the feeling go. She’d been here before, a long time ago. The arachne information trader had mentioned lizardman settlements north of the city. Perhaps one of them was the place she once called home? Her golden eyes narrowed as they surveyed the sea of grass before her. Maybe. But it would be a pointless visit, especially if the settlements were now abandoned. There was no need to burden the group with sentimentality.

Since the onset of their trek, Seira had been leading Mino and Sybyll at a distance. They were not heading straight north, but north and slightly east. She was probably taking them to the mountain pass closest to Mallus in order to minimize their travel time in the Scorched Lands. A wise choice. Had she been through there before? And how would Mino fare? Shifting Galen in her grip, Sybyll found herself jogging to catch up to Seira.

“Seira.”

“Hmm?” Seira turned to Sybyll as if she had to force her eyes off the sight they’d been set on. A dull glaze covered them.

“If I may ask, why do you wish to return to the monster lord’s castle?”

She opened her mouth, pausing when she looked to Galen’s sleeping form in Sybyll’s arms. A short frown gave way to her answer. “I need to take the title and the throne back.”

“Yes, but what for? Do you desire to lead monsters, or do you wish revenge?”

“That’s…” She let out a sharp breath. “My mother had the right ideas. Medusuub is destroying our society from the inside. I need to be monster lord because she cannot be.”

“You do not sound as enthusiastic as I would expect. How is she destroying monster society?”

Seira cocked her head back and forth in thought. “She wants to start a war with humans. She’s mobilizing all the combat-capable species, segregating the human lands and cities, and meeting with other monsters of power.” She grimaced. “Poseidon, for one.”

Sybyll turned away from Seira. Another war, was it? “Then it is of the same as last time.” Perhaps it was Tellus’ fate to be drawn whenever war arose. Not a comforting thought.

“Last time? Are you talking about Suusuub II?”

“Indeed.”

Seira’s and Sybyll’s breaths filled the gap in their words. Sybyll was content to leave it that way. Their legs beat against the ground as they subtly picked up speed, though their minds weren’t on their pace. The longer the silence went on, however, the more curiosity nagged at Sybyll’s mind.

“It sounds as if your allies left you at the end of your mother’s reign. How do you intend to win against all Medusuub has?”

Her gaze reluctantly drifted downward, then met Sybyll’s own. “I have a few ideas.”

“Ideas involving Galen?”

“More than one.”

That explains why she had chosen to stay with him, but… it would be a bit much to expect him to taken on the monster lord in her castle, Tellus or no. He hadn’t even given his decision on all this. Sybyll looked down to his peaceful face. Whatever he decided, she would support him through it. It was only natural.

“Between Galen’s abrupt criticism and sudden fatigue, I never heard your full name,” Sybyll asked.

Seira blinked a few times. “Right. I guess I figured the last name of a monster lord would be more infamous, but it looks like my mother’s destined to fade from history just like all the others before her.”

“That is a valid concern.”

Seira sighed. “Anyways, it’s Khertaleon. Seira Khertaleon.” She grinned, raising her head. “It’s been forever since I’ve heard it, even if it’s out of my own mouth. Feels weird.”

“It suits you.” 

“Does it?” A smirk grew on her face, one darkened by shadows. “It will one day, if I have anything to say about it.”

**Chapter 16**

A sudden jerk of his head woke Galen, his brain rattling within his skull as his eyes opened to blurry vision. Swallowing, he blinked several times, trying to clear his eyes, but they couldn’t seem to blink out the moisture. A strong wind from his side kept itching his eyes and tearing them up again. He reached out a hand to cover his face and the wind about stopped.

“I apologize for waking you.”

Rubbing his eyes, Galen took a look at the speaker. Sybyll was much closer than he expected, her face hardened but her gleaming eyes soft. His balance felt a little off, too. When he tried to sit up, the world lurched forward and something pulled him back down.

“Galen, please allow me to put you down, first.”

“Put me down?” He looked down. Sybyll was carrying him a good four feet above the ground. He couldn’t stop himself from squirming in surprise, but caught himself and apologized to Sybyll’s resultant glare with a sheepish smile.

Once on the ground, he brushed himself off, testing his legs, then burst into his morning routine. There was no way he’d forget it two days in a row, especially after what it caused yesterday. From the position of the sun, it was only just still morning, so technically it still counted. He finished in record time, ending with a wipe of his brow.

Then the blush came.

He walked in place, playing with his hands. “Oh gosh, Sybyll carried me.”

“Yes, and?” said Sybyll, crossing her arms.

Galen turned to look, but that only grew his blush brighter. While she either was unaware or acted oblivious to it, Sybyll’s body lacked no femininity. Even now, spilling over her crossed arms, her breasts lay full and bragging, the near-skin-tight clothing not doing anything to help the display. Though often in a stoic stare or intense leer, her face curved softly and her cheekbones melted into her jawline. Golden hair whipped across her face, breaking up the gaze bearing down on Galen. About the only thing unappealing about Sybyll was her smell, but even that wasn’t terribly offensive.

What got to Galen the worse, though, was the lack of control he had over his own body. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep after Seira’s story. His eyelids had closed of their own accord when his body finally decided it had had enough. From the time of day, Galen figured they must’ve been carrying him for a while. They’d shared the same burdens as him over the last couple days, yet he was the only one incapable of keeping up. So much for getting stronger.

“How long were you carrying me?”

Sybyll brushed some of the hair out of her face, hooking it behind an ear. “Many hours. Perhaps six or seven.”

He bit down. “And were you traveling the entire time?”

“Yes. We needed to put distance between us and the lamia.”

So they were still chasing. “I guess it was too much to hope we’d be done with them.”

“They were sent by Medusuub herself. I doubt we’ll be done with them until either they’re dead, she’s dead, or I’m dead,” said Seira.

Galen scratched his head. “So, uh, where are we headed again? I got the feeling I asked but I don’t remember the answer…”

“Mallus. It’s about three or four days from here, assuming we keep pace. Two days to the pass, then through it to the Scorched Lands. With luck, only a day of travel within the Lands till we hit Mallus.”

“Good, good. Mallus in the Scorched Lands.” He nodded, crossing his arms. He then flailed them outward, ran up to Seira and grabbed her by the shoulders, shouting, “The Scorched Lands?! Are you serious??”

She took his hands in her paws and removed them, raising an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you’re familiar with them, seeing as you’re from Nox.”

“Well, I’ve heard things. And they look really scary the way you drew them on the map!”

“A healthy amount of caution is fine, but fear will become troublesome. I’ve been through the Scorched Lands before, it’s not as bad as you’re thinking it is. Keep your wits about you and you’ll be fine. Kind of the exact opposite of what you’re doing right now.”

He bit his lip, but nodded. “Two days.” He let out a huff and smacked his fists together. “Alright. I’ll just have to prepare myself.”

The group continued north. Seira took the lead a short distance in front of Galen and Sybyll took the rear, keeping a steady watch on the horizon. Mino amused herself with the surroundings, frolicking about as if she were a child. The plains provided her with no end of entertainment. Her exclamations and giggles could be heard by the rest of the party, though no one paid it much mind. Galen found himself idly watching her every now and then, but his thoughts remained inward. He tried pumping himself up about their destination, imagining what the Scorched Lands looked like, why they had their name, what Mallus would be like, and what kind of people or monsters lived there. His concentration never held. More and more his thoughts turned backwards instead of forwards.

He saw Toneruth in his hand and the guard sleeping on the floor. Well, hopefully sleeping. He never checked. A hand moved to his left shoulder and started scratching where there was no itch. He should’ve checked. What if the guard had fallen on his neck the wrong way and Galen never noticed? The guard couldn’t exactly have planned his fall with a damn sword shoved into his head. Galen winced, squeezing on Toneruth’s hilt, the image of it sticking out of the guard’s head wedged in his mind. That sword just wasn’t natural.

Why couldn’t the rescue have just gone smoothly? Galen hadn’t even intended on attacking him. Even when he did, he only knocked the guard out. He’d gone as far as to make sure he was comfortable afterwards. They almost had Seira out of there with no incident. That stupid guard had to do his duty, though. Mino had to drop that iron bar. Sybyll couldn’t have helped, so it was only natural that Galen cover up for them. He didn’t have a choice. The guards were in the wrong. Seira saved him. Seira didn’t belong in a cell. Those were the facts.

So why did he feel sick?

A gust of wind and gleeful shout from Mino snapped him out of his thoughts. He found Toneruth drawn and held out in front of him, his hand squeezing on the hilt so tight the fibers bit into his palm. Galen swallowed, the back of his throat coarse as the saliva went down. He hurriedly sheathed the sword and looked over to Mino, watching her roll down a hill, her slime body full of loose grass. He stole a glance behind himself, wondering if Sybyll had seen him with the sword out, but she gave no indication, her gaze directed to the empty plains to their right. Seira’s head remained facing forward. Sighing, Galen slid his palm over the end of Toneruth’s hilt. His father would tell him to stop mulling over it. ‘Make you choices with confidence and integrity, so you can be proud of them later,’ he’d told Galen. Adventurers in the stories he’d heard always seemed to know the right choice. Dilemmas had been clear in his head. Clear and simple. The bad guy confronts you, and you defeat him. But what do you do when the bad guy isn’t so bad? Do you just sorta defeat him?

Seira was lucky her conflict was so cut-and-dry. Someone had taken her throne from her and killed her family and now she needed to take it back. Speaking of Seira, why was she taking the lead all of a sudden? Ever since he’d joined up with her, she always kept to his side or behind him. His back felt lighter without the constant weight of her eyes on it… and he didn’t like it. With her looking at him, he at least had some idea of what she was thinking about. But the back of her head told him nothing. Did she not want to face them after telling her story? Or was she more eager now? He looked over to Mino. Maybe the answer was even simpler than that. He almost caught up to Seira to ask her why she had such a problem with Mino, but the last time he did that nothing came out of it and he didn’t want her getting mad at him.

The plains kept silent except for nature’s voice as the day passed by. Sunlight beat down on the group, keeping the unrestrained wind at bay and doing its best to warm the group, but a chill still rattled Galen’s spine. Summer had given a good run, but it was coming to a definite end. He climbed hill after hill, only to be greeted with a hundred more, his breathing becoming rougher with each one he passed. The flat areas gave him some time to catch his breath, but the group never stopped for long. Galen had no idea how the lamia would be able to track them through such open and featureless plains like this, but he couldn’t put such a thing past them. Seira clearly didn’t.

The place reminded him of a field back home. That field wasn’t as hilly or windy as where he was now, but the grass flowed in much the same way. Patches of wild flowers popped up every now and then, some bleached white, some purple like the lilacs of Nox. Mino ended up eating one up and watching it dissolve inside her body, though from the look on her face afterwards, it didn’t provide her with whatever she was hoping for. Some of the girls back home would stop to smell the wild flowers, though he couldn’t remember of anyone who ate them raw like that.

Eventually the sun began its trek downward, earning a sigh of relief from Galen. With all that had happened yesterday and the rough sleep he’d gotten last night, he still hadn’t recovered completely. When Sybyll laid a claw on his shoulder and called for Seira and Mino to stop, he though he’d earned an early rest.

That, however, was not what she had in mind.

“We should train while we have light. The lamia likely have long to go to catch up with us, assuming they are even able to track us here.”

Galen laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “Train?”

“You are in need of it.”

He pursed his lips, but offered no protest. She wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to learn, either. Only his body protested. Sticking his chest out, he took a deep breath and nodded. Tonight he’d just need to get a good rest. “Let’s do it, then.”

He remembered most of what Sybyll had taught him last time they trained; hand positions, stance, swings and the such. Sybyll only verified his knowledge before engaging him in simple sparring. Holding the pathetically-short broken Toneruth in front of him against Sybyll, he frowned, his eyes wavering between his opponent and the jagged tip. Visions of the whirlwind of Sybyll during her fight with the lamia arose in his head, her flawless technique and staggering speed overwhelming her opponent without a hint of effort from the lizardman. Anything she threw at Galen would have to be severely dumbed-down. His teeth grated together. Another reminder of his own lack of ability. When he threw himself at Sybyll, he did so with a shout to drown out the thoughts of inadequacy that gnawed at his mind.

Seira and Mino both watched as they sparred, providing their own sort of commentary. Seira kept mostly silent, her face creasing with concentration at their movements and offering a “hmph” when something particular caught her interest. Mino was full of “ooh”s and “ahh”s, not unlike a child. Even in the midst of combat, Galen could feel a heated glare from Seira directed toward Mino, one that grew harsher as her exclamations grew more excited. Eventually, he lost concentration and slipped up, allowing a cut from Sybyll to dig into his upper chest. A familiar chill gripped him, the shock of pain coming out of his body with a grunt.

The heated glare vanished.

Galen staggered back, holding the injury and cursing himself as Sybyll chastised him. Her words rattled around his head with the thundering beat of his heart. Blood rushed to his face as he fought to keep from falling to a knee. Her tone, calm and analytical as always, made his heart burn even hotter.

“You will not get a second chance in true combat. You must remain focused, no matter the circumstance.”

“I know!” he shouted, stomping forward. “I’m sorry I don’t have a thousand years of experience like you!”

Her eyes narrowed. “My experience has nothing to do with your ability.”

“Then stop talking down to me! Just because you’re better doesn’t mean you can be so condescending! I know I can’t focus or fight like you, but it’s not like I can’t learn!” He brought up his sword, his face burning red.

“It is not my intention to be condescending.” Sybyll’s gaze focused to glare for a moment, then softened as she sheathed her sword. “You are not in the proper state to learn anything. We will continue another time.”

“I am too in the proper state! Just come at me again!”

“No. It would do no good. Put your sword away.”

“I can’t become stronger without training! I won’t stop!”

“I reiterate: training would not help you now.” She crossed her arms and looked down at him.

What authority did she have to tell him to stop? He was just getting into it, and now she wants it to end? What does ‘proper state’ even mean? He stomped over to her, his teeth digging into his lower lip so hard it went numb and his eyes alight with anger. Yet all the fury in his glare couldn’t make a dent in her composure. He had not the energy nor the patience to hold his stance, eventually slamming Toneruth back into its scabbard with a huff. He couldn’t admit it now, but part of him knew she was right, and as his emotions subsided, that part grew more and more convincing.

“Fine.” He looked away to the ground, then over to Seira. “Can you fly up and look for some sort of cover? The wind’s freezing here.”

She nodded and launched herself skyward, those bat-like wings spreading and beating in sync. This was the first time he’d actually seen her lift off with them. The sight took some of his anger away from him, curiosity filling his gaze as he followed Seira’s ascent. She kept to the air for a short time, her eyes locking on to something in the distance before coming back down.

She landed softly on her paws and pointed in the direction she’d been looking. “There are some trees down there. May not be a full forest, but it should offer something.”

“Alright. Let’s head over there.” He rubbed his arms, shivering as goosebumps tickled his skin.

They made it to the trees just as light began to fade. The concentration of trees wasn’t as thick as Galen would’ve liked, but it was still much better than trying to rest in the bare plains. Seira had said there probably wasn’t a full forest, but from where Galen stood, it might as well have been. Trying to push the cold from his mind, Galen pushed forward into the forest until he could barely see the plains they’d entered from, found a large tree to block the wind, and plopped himself down.

Mino sat next to him, flashing a smile before making herself comfortable. Sybyll surveyed the area then sat down, cross-legged, a short ways from Galen, facing the direction they’d come from. Scrunching up his mouth, Galen watched her a moment, swallowing words that kept trying to make their way up his throat. He leaned his head back against the tree, looking skyward.

“I’m heading off for a bit. You should collect some firewood whether we use it or not, Galen. We don’t know when we’ll find a place like this again,” said Seira.

He nodded, keeping his eyes on the sky and heard Seira take off, brushing against the upper branches and leaves as she flew away. He briefly wondered what she was up to, but kept the thought to himself. Maybe one day he’d ask her.

Just as he was about to take off his pack and get comfortable, he realized waiting to collect dry wood wouldn’t make things any easier on him. Light was fading fast and once he started nodding off he’d probably forget about it altogether without some nagging. And nagging was one of the things he quite happily left at home. Groaning, he stood up, adjusting the pack on his back. When he started to step away though, something snagged at his sleeve.

Mino stared up at him with an exaggerated frown. “Stay and tell me stories.”

“I’ll do that as soon as I’m back. I don’t want to be looking for dry wood in the dark.”

“’Kay. I can look too!”

“Wouldn’t the wood just get wet when you touched it?”

“Ummm.” Her jaw worked back and forth. “Maybe…”

Galen allowed himself a smile at that. “I won’t be long.”

He started scanning the ground around Sybyll and Mino, moving further and further out when he couldn’t find what he wanted. If he was going to be storing wood for later, he’d need to find sticks both long and thick enough for a fire, but at the same time the right size to go in his pack, not rotten or infested with bugs, and most of all, dead and dried. He grumbled to himself after fifteen minutes of searching came up with only a couple good candidates. The trees nearby must’ve all been healthy or he was just unlucky. He’d need to set out a little further to find a downed or dead tree.

With all this time alone, Galen’s thoughts began to wander from wood and turn inward. He couldn’t get the image of that sleeping guard from his head. The worst part was, he didn’t know why. He hadn’t done anything wrong or unjustified. He hadn’t even injured the guy. Yet, there was his limp, faintly breathing body, his eyes shut and face looking like he’d done nothing but dozed off into a nap. An itch arose on his left shoulder and he scratched it vigorously. He wondered if people dreamed in the kind of sleep Toneruth put them under. Did he somehow give the guard nightmares? With a grunt, Galen pulled at his hair and shook his head. All this over-thinking was stupid. He needed to put the event in the past and look forward.

A rather unnatural rustling overhead dropped it from his mind as his gaze shot upward, his hand going to Toneruth on instinct.

He froze in place, eyes darting around the treetops, trying to discern movement beyond the swaying of branches and leaves in the wind. The dim light forced him to squint, but even after many seconds of searching he could find nothing. He released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Slowly, he relaxed his grip on Toneruth, slacking his shoulders and turning away from the direction of the noise. Must’ve been a fluke.

The second time he heard it, it came with a hiss directly above him. Toneruth came out without a moment’s hesitation, his heart rate shooting through the roof as he called out, “Who’s there?”

The trees answered with a rustling of leaves but no words. Galen took a deep breath, trying to keep himself from getting too worked up, but an unseen enemy was much more nerve-wracking than a known one. He found his feet carrying him backwards, away from the last location of the noise and toward where his companions sat. They were a little ways off, but with a short run they’d be within yelling distance. With the light as-is and help so close, there was no point in facing whatever was out there on his own. It certainly wasn’t worth a few sticks, either.

Swallowing loudly, Galen continued backward, glancing at the ground behind him to check his footing every now and then. Images of the potential enemy started popping up in his head. It was almost certainly a monster, stalking him as stealthily as this. The air was thick with its hunger. Galen flared his nostrils to try and dislodge the scent from his nose. If it was making noises from the treetops, it would have to be a flying or climbing monster, too. One that enjoyed the thrill of a hunt. He couldn’t allow himself to hope it was a weaker monster. No, the feral heat stagnating the air said it was anything but.

He couldn’t stand the tension any longer. He had to make a break for it. In one swift motion, he spun on his foot, sheathed Toneruth, and broke into a run.

Not two steps into his run, he heard a sharp, silent whistle cut through the air. Before he could even register what it meant, a sudden pain stung at his right leg, causing him to stumble. His gaze went to the injury, finding a small, white-ish barb sticking out of his thigh. He yanked it out, wincing as a small stream of blood came out with the barb. Some sweet-smelling, sticky goo covered the barb, spreading to Galen’s hand when he inspected it. A poison? If that was the case, he needed to get back before it crippled him. He discarded the barb, but something nagged at him about it, like he’d seen something like it before.

Setting his legs afire, he burst into a run again. At least, he tried. He never made it to full speed.

The poison slammed into him like a club to the gut, though nowhere near as painful. Exactly the opposite, in fact. He became hyper-aware of everything touching his skin, the individual fibers of his clothing, the straps of his pack digging into his shoulders, how tight his pants hugged his crotch, and the sleek bite of the wind. Each step came with great difficulty as he had to force a hundred new sensations from his mind, concentrating as hard as he would putting thread through a needle. It was then, his mind nearly numb, a hand to his chest to clutch his beating heart, stumbling through the forest, recognition washed over him. He HAD seen that barb before.

On a manticore’s tail.

Something heavy slammed into his back, forcing him to the ground and knocking the wind from him.

“Oof!”

He rolled onto his back, gasping for air, but before he could get up two heavy paws pinned his shoulders and a tail coiled itself around his legs. A grinning, panting shadow loomed over him, the stench of its lust and sweat clogging up Galen’s nostrils. He couldn’t make out all the details, but he knew that grin, that braid, and those twitching ears.

“Seira.”

“Hello.” She spoke it not as a greeting, but rather a meal blessing. Her red eyes practically glowed with confidence and fervor.

He wanted to tell her to get off, but a rush of memories overwhelmed him for the moment. Pleasant memories. Frightening, too, but the fear wasn’t what he remembered most. He would’ve placed a hand over his heart to keep it from bursting free of his chest had Seira not had him pinned. That look in her eyes, though--that was what got his mouth moving. Not an ounce of mercy bled from them, only rabid heat. Dominance. 

“…Hi,” he said. “Uh, you know it’s kind of late, I’m a little tired, and I think you may have injured s--“

She squeezed his shoulders with those cushy paws of hers, sending unexpected shocks of sensations through his body. That poison made any sort of touch drive him wild.

“I would’ve thought you’d know better than to try to talk yourself out of this.” She lowered her head until it was inches from his face. “You’re traveling with monsters, Galen. You seem to have forgotten that.”

Sweat dripped from her face onto his, falling down his cheek to his neck. He scrunched his lips together. Seira held his eyes captive with her own, the red glint the only thing he could make out in the faint light. To his surprise, his next thought was not of their energy or their salacity. No, what captivated Galen was their beauty. Even in the midst of her hunt, they looked beautiful. Galen squinted. He’d seen Seira as many things: powerful, quick-witted, luscious, and determined… but beautiful? What put that thought there?

He squawked when Seira collected his wrists in one paw and pinned them to the ground above his head, lowering her hips to straddle him as she removed his clothes. They were gone in an instant, but even the act of pulling them off struck him with waves of pleasure. All he could do was grit his teeth and endure it. By the time he was fully naked, he was at full mast, some parts of him more eager to begin than others.

“Is that the venom working, I wonder?” said Seira, lightly stroking his member with her free paw. “Or can you simply not restrain yourself around me?” Her claws dug into his wrists, sharp pricks of pain contrasting the sea of pleasure he was sinking under. She leaned all the way forward so her breasts pushed against his chest, smooth as silk and soft as pillows, a massage of their own on his exposed skin. He lifted his head to look down across her back, seeing that dangerous tail of hers flux as the coils around his legs shifted. A light nibble on his ear forced him to close his eyes. He took in a sharp breath and moaned.

Her words came out in a seductive whisper. “You’re so cute when you’re helpless. But you’re a little too receptive, I think.”

The nibble turned into a bite and Galen arched his back in pain, a weak whimper escaping his mouth. Seira withdrew, sitting back up and digging her claws into his chest. The four points of contact went from tingling, to freezing, to burning as her claws went deeper. An image of her raking them across his skin ran through his head, making him gasp and his eyes fly open. He struggled to free his wrists and his legs, but her tail and paw held fast.

“Much better.” Her mouth hovered over his neck. “I can smell it now, raw fear mixed with anxiety and that tiny hint of anticipation.” Her face filled his view again. “I know you enjoyed what I did to you.” A soft chuckle blew from her mouth over his cheeks. “Not simply because I know how good I am, but because of what happened at the bridge. You remember the bridge, don’t you?”

Galen’s body stiffened as if turned to rock. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but had assumed she simply didn’t notice.

“That’s right. I see the recognition in your look. The orcs smelled arousal, Galen. Sniffed you out like a cat would a rat.” Her tail tightened its coils around his legs. “But where could that arousal have possibly come from? You were busy hanging from the bridge. How could anything else have been on your mind?” The tip of her tail latched onto his wiggling toes and began to suck, thick juices oozing from the entrance and covering his skin. He shivered, squirming in her grasp, but couldn’t form a coherent response.

“I--I--Uh, the water, the, ahhh…”

Her tail swallowed most of his foot, sucking harder and harder. “Fufufu… you don’t have to act so enamored for my sake.” Grin growing wider, she grinded her hips onto his crotch, watching him squirm as the poison sent indescribable bliss through his body. His manhood, hard as diamonds, began leaking onto his stomach where Seira had it pinned. She looked down at it, then scooted forward so it stuck out behind her, brushing up against where her tail met her body.

When her tail detached from his foot, his eyes went as wide as they could. He may not have been able to see what was happening behind her back, but he knew exactly where that tail was headed next. His breaths turning to pants, slowed only by Seira’s weight on his stomach. Her smile darkened at his reactions, leaning forward to gaze deep into his eyes. The paw on his wrist gripped tighter and sent fresh waves of pain down his arms. It was at that exact moment, him wincing from the pain, that her tail swallowed his member. A gasp died in his throat. His mouth opened wide. Each time he tried to take in air, he instead choked as if his body had temporarily forgotten how to breathe.

Galen’s senses left him. The wind, the time of day, the manticore atop him, the bleeding cuts in his wrists and arms, all forgotten--all but that tail. Countless folds enveloped and squeezed his member, a prelude massage to the chorus of pleasure about to come. Copious amounts of her tail juice leaked out and smothered his crotch. When she slowly began pumping him, he was so lubed up her tail glided across his skin.

“Aaahh…” he moaned, unable to keep from smiling. His brain finally caught up with everything that was happening. And it decided it wanted more. Galen struggled at his bonds even in the throes of pleasure. He wanted to seizes those breasts sitting before him, kiss that lithe neck, embrace that proud body--anything! But his struggling only drew more amusement from Seira and the harder he fought, the faster her tail moved. Like a demonic kiss on his member, the tip of her tail sealed around his shaft while the insides squirmed and squeezed. It devoted itself to his pleasure, only driving him madder with desire to reciprocate.

He cut off mid-moan, thrusting into her tail as his manhood ignited with sensitivity and bliss. His seed shot deep into the waiting tail, the orgasm coming with such haste he almost didn’t realize it. He’d been so enraptured in her grin, her milking, and his own frustration that his release nearly blindsided him. A satisfied sigh escaped Seira’s lips as she accepted his semen. Without skipping a beat, her tail slammed down on him, swallowing even his balls, and began to suck. It didn’t slide up and down him like before, but smothered him in a hundred wonderful touches, massages, and caresses, all the while growing tighter and tighter. The suction was so powerful he feared it might draw his very soul from him, though at this point, he didn’t think he’d even mind such a thing.

Seira began grinding her hips into him again, the slickness on his stomach showing he wasn’t the only one aroused. She leaned over, licking at his shoulder, sending shivers up his spine. With the poison in his body, he could feel every tastebud on her tongue as she drew it across his skin.

“Enjoying yourself, are you?”

He yelped when her teeth sunk into the spot she’d just licked, gnashing his teeth together to keep sane. She held him in her mouth for several seconds, letting the pain sink in before withdrawing. Moving a claw up to his neck, she watched his eyes light up with a mix of terror and anticipation, all the while her tail bringing him closer and closer to the edge. He thrust his hips upward, trying to delve deeper into her tail, but his motions were pointless. Seira had already shoved her tail as far onto him as it would go. Her face animating with intention, she began pushing her claw harder against the skin on his throat and, at the same time, constricting her tail harder on his shaft.

How he had lasted so long with the poison coursing through his veins, he couldn’t possibly guess, but he was again at his end. His vision went white with pleasure, his thrusts growing feverous as a second climax ripped through his body. Seira’s tail eager swallowed everything he had to offer and more. Her paw moved from his neck to rest over her heart, her eyes closing in contentment as she took in every drop of his release.

Once finished, Galen slumped onto the ground, breathing as if he had never known air before, limbs limp and numb. He had to be done. There was nothing left in his body.

Yet Seira never removed her tail.

“What will happen if you keep coming, I wonder?” Her smile grew further, showing Galen two rows of gleaming teeth. “Would you be able to survive that?”

His face twitched involuntarily from the continuing pleasure as he gaped at her. “Y-you’re joking, r-right?”

“Fufufu.” She lowered her head, taking in the scent of his panic and sweat. Her ears perked up as she inhaled. “I wonder…”

Any response was cut off as her tail began pumping, demanding him to grow hard again. Somehow, his body responded. Somehow, he was every bit as sensitive as he was before… if not moreso. Seira laughed as recognition dawned on him, clear on his face. The poison was keeping him going! And if she kept this up, his body would continue to give in, over and over, until there really was nothing left of him.

“C’mon, Seira, c-cut it out,” he mumbled through the moans.

“Are your sure?” Her grin widened to proportions he didn’t think possible. “Let’s see about that.” She slid off him, untangling her tail from his legs but keeping her paw on his wrists. She knelt down next to him, watching his reaction to seeing her tail on his member for the first time that night. He choked back words, his lips quivering at the sight. Her tail was constantly dripping, the goo now covering his crotch, smeared all over where her body had been grinding into him. At the moment, it was only latched onto his head, though it hadn’t weakened its ministrations in the slightest. He could still feel that incredible suction and its caressing walls eager to milk him again.

“Now all you have to do is pull it off. That’s it. I won’t even prevent you from trying.” She laid a paw on his chest, lightly drawing those sharp claws across his skin. One dipped into the earlier cuts she’d left, making him gasp from the quick shock of pain. She then released his wrists and rested her head on a paw, waiting.

The sudden blood rushing back to his hands made them tingle. His first reaction was to reach for the tail, but as his hands grew closer, he hesitated. He was weak, sure, but he was able to move his arms just fine. His breathing was heavy, but his lungs weren’t hurting. That tail felt amazing on his cockhead, too. It wasn’t like he was about to die. It couldn’t hurt to leave it on there a little while. How often did he get to experience three orgasms in a row, anyways?

“Really, Galen, it’s not that hard. Just grip the tail and pull it off. Here, I’ll help.”

She took his hands in a paw and placed them on her tail. It was slick beneath his fingers, like leather damped with oil. He wrapped his fingers around it in a light grip, but still didn’t pull. Staring at his hands, he kept thinking about last time, how he shoved her tail onto him and how wonderful that felt. How it would feel to have those attentive folds on his shaft again, how his entire member would once again be drowned in pleasure. The fact it only held his head now drove him crazy. His grip on her tail tightened. He made his choice.

With a grunt, he shoved her tail all the way down to his base, thrusting upward into it at the same time.

“That’s what I thought.”

With a lackadaisical smile at his grip, she grabbed her tail over top his hands and pushed it up and down his member with him. He couldn’t bring himself to look anymore, fearing he would succumb right away if he did. Touches like fingertips stroked him from tip to base. Pink, malleable folds drowned every inch of his member in licks. Her tail squeezed almost to the point of crushing him but still slid up and down with ease. Seira and Galen pumped it together, over and over, until he was at the point of bursting. Gritting his teeth, he hilted into it, pressing it as hard as he could into his crotch.

“Oh, sweet goddess!” he cried. The third orgasm almost blacked him out, exploding out his cock with such force he was afraid he released something more than just semen. He threw his hips as high into the sky as they would go, spurting load after load into that glorious tail of hers, wanting never to stop. Seira licked her lips with hunger, sucking him through the orgasm in order to make sure he left nothing behind. For several seconds past his last spurt, she continued to pump her tail over his shaft. Only when his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth was she satisfied he had nothing left.

Her tail came off his member with a soft pop, leaving it raw and exposed to the elements. Somehow, it was still hard, too. When the wind picked up, he shivered, the goop on his manhood making it feel colder than it really was.

“Figures you’re still able to go. But that’s enough, I think. For now.” She wiped most of the goo off him with her paws, using his shirt to clean up whatever she missed. He didn’t need to worry about any spare semen; her tail had definitely cleaned up all of that.

Galen was still in a daze, blinking and trying to calm his heart while Seira put his clothes back on. Only when she lifted his head and waved a paw in front of his face did he return to the present.

“Welcome back. We need to get you back to Sybyll before she gets worried. Something tells me she’s not someone I want to get on the bad side of.”

“Oh-okay.”

“Do your legs work?”

“Let me see.”

He brought his knees up, then tried to push off the ground, but he might as well have been trying to lift a boulder. He couldn’t even get his rear up. Grunting, he surrendered.

Seira, though, couldn’t hide her smile. “As much as I expected.” She took one of his arms and hooked it around her neck. Grabbing his side with a paw, she lifted him up, letting his legs just barely touch the ground for support. Whenever Galen attempted to put any real weight on them, he’d wince and start to collapse again.

“You better learn how to walk again, or I’ll have to carry you.”

Blushing, Galen puffed out his cheeks and redoubled his efforts. After a minute, he finally found his feet. Though the steps were slow and short, he still managed to move forward. Pushing his chest out as much as he could, he looked over to Seira and smiled. Closing her eyes, she smiled back.

“Your cheeks are red,” he said, his voice raspy.

She jerked her head back, touching a paw to each. “What? No they’re not!”

He chuckled. “They are now.”

She growled and dropped him, letting his body collapse like a potato sack as it hit the ground. “Oww,” he groaned, rubbing his shoulder where he hit the ground first.

“Hmph.” Seira bent down, picking him back up and draping his arm across her shoulders like before. “You shouldn’t play tricks on me when you can’t even stand up straight.”

“Or maybe now is the best time to do it. You weren’t expecting that one.”

She sighed, watching the forest ahead as she guided them through it toward the rest of their group. Travel was slow-going, but Galen didn’t mind. He had more of his wits about him unlike last time Seira had to assist him like this. He saw much more of her actions, noticed the care with which she walked and exactly how close she hugged his body to hers. He wished there was more light so he could’ve seen her expression, too. His legs were pretty much dead underneath him, and only after a couple minutes of walking could he really begin to feel them again. Their amble through the forest brought back other memories of times when it was just the two of them. That time didn’t last long, but now that he thought about it, he didn’t mind it at all, even with all their differences.

And while they had the time alone, he decided he needed to say something.

“I can’t do things your way.”

Their pace slowed, Seira glancing over to Galen. “What was that?”

His lips drew into a resigned smile. “I tried. Back in the jail, the guard caught onto us after Mino dropped that iron bar. I knocked him out with Toneruth.” He shook his head gently. “And now I know. For some reason, I can’t just do whatever’s necessary. Those rules of mine you find so silly--I can’t live without them.”

His step faltered, but Seira pulled him up, adjusting his arm around her neck. A small smile tugged at her face. “I think I can settle for calling you an idiot for now. You did what you had to, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of for it. If you ask me, you should be proud.”

“I am proud of what we managed to do… just not how we--how I--did it.”

She shook her head. “Geez, you’re helpless on your own. Good thing you have me.”

His gaze went skyward, watching the specks of stars through the gaps in the trees, letting the rustling of the leaves tickle his ears. “I think you’re right about that.”

**End of Part 1**


	2. Part 2

**Chapter 17**

“Is that a person?”

“Huh?” Galen’s head turned at Seira’s words. She was pointing out across the distance toward a thin cropping of trees, the first break they’d seen in the plains since leaving the small forest that morning. The afternoon sun shone bright in his eyes as they followed her direction. He squinted but couldn’t make anything out. Sometimes he felt envious of the sharpness of monster vision. “I don’t see anything.”

“It’s moving unlike any animal.” She unfurled a wing to block the wind from her eyes, taking a more concentrated stare. “Too small for most monsters.” She glanced over to Sybyll. “You see it?”

“Hmm.” Protecting her eyes like Seira, she took a good look at the mystery object. “I’m afraid my eyes aren’t much better than your own, but I suspect you are correct.”

Who could possibly be out here and why? Taking a deep breath of the dry air, Galen crossed his arms. “I think we should go talk to whoever it is. I want to know what they’re doing out here.” He laid a hand on his stomach. “And if they have any meat. It’s been forever since I’ve had a good cooked meal. I should have gotten one back in the city,” he moped.

“You didn’t have any money, idiot. You still don’t,” said Seira, glaring at him.

“Hey! It’s nice to think about at least!”

Mino tugged at his sleeve. She’d taken up a spot next to him ever since they’d departed that morning, mimicking his every move. That had included his morning routine, though he hadn’t minded in the slightest. “Let’s go! I want to meet him, too!”

He heard Seira sigh at that. Still wasn’t giving it a rest, huh? Her trouble with Mino nagged at him every time it came up, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Mino was trying to be nice, but no amount of kindness seemed to sway Seira. Whenever he thought about confronting Seira about it, he just saw that glare from her the morning they’d found Mino. Thinking back, he had no idea where the strength to hold Seira back came from. The mere thought of being the one to aggravate her made him squeamish. Even now, he was breaking out in a sweat.

“Galen, c’mon!” said Mino. She pulled at his arm until he started walking toward the far-off figure.

“Some caution would be advised,” said Sybyll, catching up to Galen. “We know not what this person is out here for or what sort of character he or she may be. I will approach first.”

Galen looked to Seira for her opinion. She shrugged. Taking that as approval to proceed, Sybyll made her way toward the figure at a jog, the rest of the party not far behind.

Seira made a point of staying on the side of Galen opposite Mino.

A smile crawled onto Galen’s face. It’d only been a day and a half since they left Fullsburg, but the plains were boring beyond belief. The tall grass had scratched at his legs with each step even through his pants. The same scenery for miles and miles with no buffer from the cold wind dulled his appreciation for the scale of it. He’d probably walked the length of Nox by now, just in these plains alone.

Finally, they had come across something interesting. Hopefully it wasn’t dangerous, too. He kept his eyes forward as he jogged, eager to find whatever figure Sybyll and Seira had been looking at before. Mino apparently could see it as well, since her eyes were focused. He frowned. How did slime eyes work, anyways? Did the goo somehow catch light the right way and channel it to the core? Or were they for show and she actually got information some other way? Shaking his head, he set his attentions forward again. Some other time.

It turned out Seira was right: it was a person. A middle-aged man, to be exact, a couple of leaves tangled in with the mess of short black hair atop his head. He stood a decent height, perhaps a bit taller than average, with a sturdy build Galen was instantly envious of. The man definitely noticed them, but only watched for the moment. When the group got within speaking distance, the man raised a bow at them, stopping them in their tracks.

“Who are you? What do you want?” His voice came out deep and booming.

“We’re travelers!” Mino blurted out before anyone else could give a greeting. She opened her mouth to say more, but Galen stuffed his hand in it.

He cringed when she started sucking.

“We are indeed traveling,” said Sybyll. “We head north, and were curious about you. We’ve not seen another soul for many miles.”

“North?” The bow wavered from Seira to Sybyll. “From Fullsburg, I take it? But why head north here? No one takes the beach passage when the east is open to them.”

“Perhaps you can lower the bow before we discuss our travel plans.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Or I could release. Why head north?”

Seira stepped in. “We’re not taking the beach passage. We’re bound for Mallus.”

“So you’re just crazy. Fair enough.” The bow lowered, but the man kept an arrow nocked. “As for your curiosity, there’s not much for me to tell. I live out here, and I was hunting.” He gestured with his head. Not far off, a buck lay on the ground, an arrow sticking out of it. “Just had some success, in fact. Ran straight into me for some reason. I’m guessing it must’ve caught your scent. Lucky for me, I suppose.”

“Buck?” Galen couldn’t help himself. He was already salivating. “As in, meat?”

The man smirked. “No need to make your hunger so obvious.” He looked over the group, eyes scanning for more than the obvious. He lingered on Seira a moment before turning back to Sybyll. “I was just thinking about how to get this thing back home on my own without leaving it for some other predator. Thing’s bigger than I can carry alone. If you help with the carrying and the cooking, I think I can spare some. Probably couldn’t eat the whole thing before it went bad, anyways.”

“Yes!” Galen blurted, freeing his hand-turned-pacifier from Mino’s mouth and raising it. “I will definitely help!”

Seira sighted, a paw in her face, but didn’t offer objection. Sybyll merely nodded in acceptance and Mino joined Galen in his enthusiasm, raising her own hand and jumping.

“I will definitely help!”

“You’ll get slime all over the buck,” Seira grumbled.

Mino moped to Galen, eyes begging for his approval. He shifted his feet in place, looking between Seira and Mino and biting his lower lip in thought. “Mino, Seira’s right. Sorry. You’ll have to just watch for now.”

Mino literally deflated, but at the same time Galen saw Seira’s chest jut out a bit. He shot her a glare. Just because she was right didn’t mean she should be so haughty about it.

The man was busy removing his arrow from the buck’s carcass when Seira and Galen stepped up to help. Wiping the blood off the tip, he slid the arrow back in his quiver and put his hands his hips.

“Been a while since I’ve landed such a nice shot on a moving target. Good thing I’ve got someone to show it off to, huh?” He blasted out a cheery grin, then gestured to the carcass. “I’ll get the head. Keep those antlers from doing any damage while we haul this thing back in. The stronger one of you two can get the belly and the other can grab it ‘round the rear.”

Galen and Seira both went for the belly, bumping into each other when they bent down. Glare met glare. With what leverage he had, Galen pushed at Seira with his body. She pushed back. Their faces came closer and closer, eyes growing darker, strength pumping into their little war, until Galen lost his balance and flopped over onto the ground. His glare soured at the sight of Seira’s victory smile. Fine. She could take the brunt of the work. He brushed himself off then grabbed the carcass just in front of the hind legs. On a short count from the man, they lifted with grunts, Seira’s paws having no trouble gripping the meat of the beast. The buck looked even larger held up, making Galen’s mouth water to the point he almost drooled. The man lead the small group forward.

“Name’s Roy, by the way. How about all of you?”

“I’m Galen, the head of our group.” He nodded to everyone as he introduced them. “This is Seira, she’s a bit stuffy, but she grows on--ow, hey, tail’s cheating! Then there’s Sybyll and finally Mino.”

“Pleasure. You got quite an interesting group together. Never imagined I’d see so many monsters with just one guy. How’d that happen?”

“It’s a bit of a story. I can tell you over our meal, actually, when we’re all gathered and ready.”

Roy adjusted the buck’s head on his shoulder. “I look forward to it!”

“What about you? How did you come to live out here?” asked Seira.

“Me? Well, I was something of a wandering merchant for most of my life. Most of my time was spent between cities. Gave that all up when I ran into my wife.”

Seira’s ears perked up. “Your wife?”

“Yeah. Decided to take the beach passage up north and I bumped into her. Was hunting in the very place we’re walking through now! Game sometimes wanders here from the forest up north, and here where the trees are very thin, it’s much easier to land a good shot according to her. She’s a much better hunter than I am. I mean, she caught me!” He slapped a hand to his belly, chuckling along with his own joke. “Anyways, it turned out we were both hunting. Scared me half to death when I noticed her, too. Didn’t have the wits back then that I do now. She knew I was there before I showed myself, but didn’t approach or make any threatening movements. Not a bad idea when the man behind the bow is shaking with fear. After I got a hold of myself, I approached her and we got to chatting. Neither one of us caught anything by the time the sun went down, but I offered some food and supplies in exchange for shelter in her home.” He shot a knowing look over his shoulder. “She made a very convincing argument for me to stay, so I did. Fell in love not long after and been together since.”

One of Seira’s ears was now twitching like mad. It made Galen want to squeeze it. “How long has it been?”

“’Bout fifteen years, now. Looking back, I don’t know how I ever lived without her. Funny that fifteen years isn’t much to her, but in a good few years I’ll be aged more than she.”

“’Aged more’?”

He scratched his head. “Ah, yeah. Little confusing said like that. She’s a ushi-oni, right around six hundred years old--but don’t tell her I told you. Sensitive about the whole age thing. I’ll be fifty in the spring.”

“Wow,” said Galen. He had gotten lost Roy’s talking about his wife and almost dropped his end of the buck. He re-gripped it just in time. “So how old do Ushi-onis get? And what are they like? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of one.”

“Ushi-onis are a type of arachne, so they live a little longer than most monsters. Usually between six and eight hundred years. Instead of hard chitin, though, they’re covered in fur, have two horns, and their skin is green on the human part. She also wears a seal over one of her eyes.” Roy gave Galen a wink and a grin. “We take that off when we wanna have a little fun.”

Seira groaned and rolled her eyes while Galen “ooh”ed in amazement. Mino echoed him from behind.

“But words won’t do her justice. You’ll just have to see for yourself.” He pointed outward. “Our place is less than two hours that way at our current pace. Let me know if your arms are getting tired and we’ll rest a bit.” He slapped the buck’s cheek. “I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I bring home this baby.”

“Excuse me,” said Sybyll. “But could you tell me her name?”

“Cea. No last name or nothin’ like that. I think it’s cute.”

“Thank you.”

Galen glanced back to Sybyll. What did she ask that for?

They made their way through the forest, occupying themselves with idle chatter as they walked. Roy had plenty of brags about his wife, though every time he started getting into it, he’d cut himself off and say, “Ah, you’ll just have to see for yourself.” Galen’s appetite for stories was gorging itself on his every word but reeled back every time Roy stopped himself like that. A couple times Galen forgot he still had a buck to carry, almost losing his grip before realizing his inattentiveness. Even with two people and a monster carrying the thing, it was awkward and heavy to move. Galen kept wiping the sweat from his brow with his elbow, but it never seemed to help. His feet dragged in the dead leaves and brush. At least the breeze kept him cool.

Seira never complained, but Galen noticed the strain in her voice becoming more and more apparent. Her stalwart façade along with the way her ears twitched as Roy talked about himself kept making Galen want to tickle them. He eventually decided against it, as he didn’t want to deal with dropping the buck and his stomach’s growling was only growing louder.

It took the better part of two hours like Roy had said, but just as the light began its inevitable shift to the deep orange of evening, they broke free of the trees and into a clearing. Near the middle of the clearing, a small, cozy cabin jutted out of the tall grass. It wasn’t any larger than the houses Galen remembered from back home, but he felt it was just as well lived-in. There wasn’t anything specific he noticed about it, just that a feeling that it was a true home. More than a building. Maybe it was the way Roy’s eyes lit up and he just about lost hold of the buck’s head.

“Wait here. I don’t want to ambush Cea with a bunch of guests without warning. I’ll just be a moment.”

He took off the moment he finished, running like the wind across the clearing, his steps light and energetic. Galen felt a pang in his heart. How long had it been since he left, running through town just like that? When would he see home again?

“It’s not going anywhere,” said Seira, adjusting her grip on the buck.

“What?”

“Your home. It’s not going anywhere.”

Galen scrunched up his mouth, his cheeks heating up as he spoke. “What does that mean?”

She rolled her eyes. “I can smell the homesick from you and your eyes are basically screaming it, too. Your home’s fine.”

His face shifted to a sour frown, glancing at Mino and Sybyll before replying, “Are you sure?”

“Galen, from what I know about you, Nox must be one of the most boring, isolated places in the world. Nothing has happened to it. There’s no reason for anything to. Stop moping.”

He looked at the ground, then back to Seira. “I’m not moping.”

“And I’m not a manticore.”

She cricked her neck, saying nothing more. Sighing, Galen gave himself a slight nod. She was probably right. There was no reason for anything bad to happen back home. Everyone knew each other. They had no enemies. A day of sea travel separated them from the rest of the world. They’d be fine.

But curse the spirits if the air didn’t smell exactly like home.

Something tugged at his sleeve. He looked down.

“Don’t be sad,” said Mino.

He offered what he could of a smile. “I’m not sad. Just thinking.”

“I don’t like the look on your face when you’re thinking like that.” She hugged his arm. “Besides, I’m from home, too, and I’m right here.”

Huh. He cocked his head. Technically, she was right, even if he had no memories of encountering her back on Nox. It wasn’t the same, though. He hadn’t practiced swordplay in his yard with her, or sat down at a table next to her, or spent a long day harvesting together. Her sloughing frown wouldn’t let him voice that, though, so he nodded instead.

“Hey!” Roy ran up to them, pushing a two-wheel flatbed cart. His eyes and grin showed energy like he’d just gotten a good night’s rest, but he was panting like a dog. “Throw the buck down on here. I’ll wheel it the rest of the way.”

Seira and Galen complied, heaving the buck onto the cart with a grunt and simultaneously wiping a hand across their brows. Roy chuckled at it, but didn’t say anything to the inquisitive glances he got for it. He simply waved for the group to follow him and started toward the house.

“Now, she may not act excited at all, but I’m sure she’ll be happy for some company. Much as we enjoy ourselves out here, it’s nice to bump into people and monsters from time to time.” He raised a finger. “If you’re not careful, she’ll have you running your mouth till your jaw hurts, talking about everything going on with the rest of the world.”

“As long as she’s got stories too and we get that buck cooked, I’m fine with that,” said Galen. He slapped a hand to his stomach.

“No need to worry about that! I’m just as hungry as you are,” said Roy.

“I dunno about that…”

Roy threw his head back in a throaty laugh. “My wife calls my stomach a bottomless pit sometimes. I’ll take that as a challenge.”

Galen was about to shoot back an acceptance of his challenge when his eyes landed on what could only be Roy’s wife. The first thing he noticed was her height. She stood a head taller than Sybyll, easily the tallest of their group. Her long, fuzzy legs ended in hard tips, likely sharp enough to pierce armor with a little force behind it. They moved back and forth in tiny steps to keep her upper body still and facing the group. Her arms were similar to her legs; fur covering the elbow and forearm and ending in harder tips, each hand with three digits and a thumb. Two twisted horns grew from her head, grey-green against the black of her hair and fur. A red band of cloth with writing on it, likely the seal Roy mentioned, covered her left eye while the right one practically glowed. It wasn’t colored like a typical human eye, but a striking purple where Galen expected white and an enlarged yellow iris.

“Everyone, this is Cea, my wife. Cea, this is…”

His introductions faded from Galen’s hearing. He couldn’t snap his attention away from Cea. From the way she had her arms crossed over her chest and an inspecting gaze in her one uncovered eye, Galen suspected she wasn’t as happy as Roy said she would be. When her eye drifted over him, he shivered. This was a true monster, the kind he heard of in the darkest parts of his father’s stories. The kind that could paralyze you with a stare and steal your soul with a kiss.

Her inspection was quick but thorough. Galen could feel that gaze crawl over him, soaking in every last detail. She lingered on his swords a moment, that single eye narrowing before moving on. Galen’s chest rose and fell as he gasped for air. For some reason he felt like he was suffocating. Each member of the group received the same inspection in-kind. Mino was glued to Galen’s side, looking out across the clearing in an attempt to ignore the stare, and Seira did tried to shrug it off by watching the cabin. Only Sybyll met the ushi-oni’s gaze, and she met it with a challenge. Their eyes clashed as if fighting, trying to pierce the other as if to divine something beyond the surface. On each inhalation, Galen could smell the tension strung between the two. His nose twitched with how thick it laid on the air. When finished with Sybyll, Cea took another look at Galen, but this time her purpose was much more specific. Toneruth.

“Honey, please. It’s like you’re trying to scare them off,” said Roy.

She turned to Roy, all smiles. “Of course not. But I do know how trusting you are of anyone that seems to come by this way.”

He slapped a hand to the bed of his cart. “They helped me bring our dinner in! I’d have been stuck out there with too much buck if not for them. Besides, I know you like the company.”

“You shouldn’t chase such large game in the first place.” She shook her head, but couldn’t wipe the smile from her face. “But it’s just like you to do it anyways, isn’t it? And you’re right.” Turning around, she stepped inside the house and waved everyone in. “There’s room enough for all of you to sit. Please come in.” She jabbed a finger at Roy. “You bring the beast around to the oven and get it prepared. By yourself. That way, next time you’ll think about the size of the animal you’re hunting.”

Roy withered at her scolding, gripping his chest. “Such cruelty! Your mercilessness strikes at my heart!”

“Please ignore the whining man-child and come inside.” She disappeared into the house.

Mino rushed over to Roy, asking if he was alright, touching his chest where he’d gripped it. Shaking his head, he chuckled and waved her away. “I was just acting. Go on into the house before she shifts her ire to you. I’ll get this thing ready to cook.”

Punching his fists together, Galen stepped forward, cautiously crossing the threshold into Roy and Cea’s house, trying to absorb as much as the atmosphere as he could. Just as he suspected, it was quite homely. Shelves, little more than a small ledge jutting outward, lined the walls a bit above his head. Carvings, rocks, and other small ornaments covered the shelves. Beyond the short entry hall, however, the house was almost completely open. A living area, kitchen, and dining table all occupied an open space. Behind him and to his left was one of the few inside walls, and through a rather wide doorway on it he could make out a single massive bed. It wasn’t exactly what he thought of for a house like this, but to be honest, he had pretty much nothing to compare it to outside the houses back on Nox. It would make sense for a wide and tall monster like a ushi-oni to have few doorways and lots of open space.

Cea herself was bent over, attending a small but growing fire in the fireplace. The wood creaking under Galen’s traveling boots grabbed her attention, and she gestured to a few chairs set out around the fireplace. None looked large enough for her, though.

“Where will you sit?” he asked, taking the cushiest-looking chair.

She dismissed his questions with a wave. “I don’t sit on chairs. Would be rather awkward for my body. If I want to rest my legs, I either spread them out and lay flat on my abdomen, or curl them beneath me and sit atop them.”

“Wow. So you’ve always got a chair with you.”

“That’s one way to see it.”

Seira was the next to enter, her gaze wandering all over the house much like Galen’s had. He couldn’t help but notice those ears of hers still hadn’t stopped that distracting twitch. Had he the courage of a stronger man, he might venture to call them cute to her face.

Taking a chair next to Galen, she said, “This is a nice place. How long did it take to build?”

“Ten years or so, not counting the later adjustments. A bit longer than I expected, even without any help.”

Seira’s brow creased. “Roy didn’t help?”

Cea shook her head, standing up straight away from the fire now that it was blazing healthily on its own. “I built this place long before I met him. Once he started living with me, we opened it up a bit.”

“If you built it before meeting him, how long have you been out here on your own?”

Smiling, she took up a spot opposite Galen and Seira, choosing to stay standing. “This house is about fifty years old, but I’ve been living about the area for about four hundred years.” She gave Galen a moment to gape in surprise before adding, “Not entirely, though. I wander from time to time, building a new house when the old cannot stand or taking trips to cities around the continent.” She clasped her hands together. “I’ve had a lot of time to myself.”

Mino entered next, watching the floor of all places as she walked in. Something about it caught her attention. Seira looked only to confirm who it was before turning and slumping into her chair.

“Please--Mino, was it?--take a seat,” said Cea.

Her eyes snapped up from the floor, looking to Cea, then the chairs laid out. She happily bounded to the last remaining chair, plopping herself down with a squishy thud. Shooting Cea a smile, she clasped her hands together in her lap like she was sitting down for a lesson.

Excitement fading from his face, Galen turned to the entrance, expecting to see Sybyll. She never left him alone for long--in fact, he’d expected her to insist on being the first inside to investigate. Yet he neither heard nor saw her.

Cea spoke up, regaining his attention. Her stare was directed at him in particular, catching him mid-swallow. “My husband tells me the four of you are from down south, headed north to Mallus. I admit to an insatiable curiosity, so I must ask: what is your story?”

**Chapter 18**

Silence.

Galen had leaned forward and opened his mouth, but when it came time to speak, his tongue found no words. Of all the stories he’d told, he’d never talked about himself. Where would he start? The argument with his father? The Kraken? Meeting Seira? And how much should he tell? Cea could be interested in any number of things, and he didn’t want to accidentally bore her with extraneous information. At the same time, she was still technically a stranger. He didn’t want to tell too much.

“Heh, this is awkward,” he said, scratching the back of his neck. “I thought I could just tell my story, but I guess I’m not sure where to start.”

Cea closed her eyes and nodded. “It’s alright, dear. Just start where your journey began.”

He twiddled his thumbs. “Well, I did tell Roy I’d tell the story over the meal. Why don’t I--“

“Nonsense. You can tell it right here. I will recant it for him later.” Her smile shifted to one side of her face, her eyes narrowing the slightest bit. It was just enough to tell Galen he hadn’t a choice in the matter.

“Well, umm, I guess the beginning would be in my yard. That’s where I decided to run away from home.”

Seira threw her head back, a paw on her chest as she laughed at the ceiling. “You? Run away from home? Really?”

His eyes seethed in their glare, but Cea did the berating for him with a click of her tongue. “Now now, I would like to judge the young man’s story for myself.”

Ending the laugh with a chortle, Seira sat back in her chair, smug as expressions would allow. Galen took his gaze off of her, trying to find where he left off. He watched Mino, her tentacle-hair swinging back and forth like a pendulum while she smiled gleefully. Right. She would be next, wouldn’t she?

“After getting my pack from my mother--“ An unrefined laugh from Seira blew into her paw. She made little effort to keep to herself. Galen huffed and continued. “I ran through town, making my way to my boat. Before casting off, however, I unknowingly picked up Mino,” he said, gesturing to the slime. “I was already a good ways out before my father found out I’d left and made it to the dock. We said our goodbyes and I sailed into the sea. I didn’t get all that far before my first encounter, however.”

“That was the Kraken!” said Mino.

He nodded. “Yes, the Kraken was guarding the passage between Nox, my homeland, and the mainland.”

“Nox?” Cea tapped her face lightly with her fingers. “Very interesting. And why might the Kraken be devoting herself to something so mundane? She sought mates, perhaps?”

“She told me it was Poseidon’s order. She didn’t know why, though.” He bit his lower lip as his face heated up. “Looking back, I think she wanted to make me a mate. But Poseidon wasn’t allowing it for some reason. She let me pass under the condition I find Poseidon and convince her to let the Kraken roam freely again… or at least take her share of the spoils.”

“Quite a task for someone as young as yourself. To speak to the Queen of the Sea herself, and further, to convince her of something… how do you plan on achieving such a thing? Is that why you now head toward Mallus?”

“Ah, well, not exactly.” His hand went to his shoulder automatically, scratching a sudden itch. It’d been days since he’d had that injury healed, but somehow it still bugged him.

He proceeded to tell Cea about his rough landing on shore and that first encounter with Seira. The aggressive, curious manticore who’d one second been pouncing on him and the next running away. He couldn’t help himself from glancing over to Seira as he described their meeting, watching those ears of hers twitch back and forth.

He still wanted to squeeze them.

Next came finding the injury on Seira’s wing and applying the healing paste. It was then Galen realized afterward Seira could’ve very well set off on her own and Galen may not have followed. Sure, she was interesting and owed--thinking of it that way now sounded weird--him a raping, but his destination had always been Silere. He shook his head. Is that really what he’d chased her down for?

The lamia caught up with him after that, beating him, crushing him, humiliating him, all in their pursuit of Seira. Now that he knew who Seira was, it made much more sense, but back then he’d just accepted it. Why did he choose to defend her, anyways? What did he owe her? His hand clenched into a fist. And what happened to that bravery? He’d been injured, sure, but only physically. Somehow he was able to get back up on his feet and move forward like nothing had happened. Yet, that encounter back in Fullsburg and the meeting with the information trader had left him shaking, not to mention his attack on the guard.

Why would he feel fear now, of all things?

“Courageous of you to stand up so quickly after a cruel beating. Where did you head next?”

“Silere.”

He wanted to swallow the word the moment it left his mouth. No one had any reason to go to Silere, it was a ghost town. That meant telling her his destination would lead to…

“Why Silere?”

He cringed. Yup. Fidgeting in his chair, he tried to think up a good answer. He’d never been the best liar, though. Except for pranks.

“Umm, ahh, that’s…”

Cea leaned forward. “From your hesitance, I would guess you’re not comfortable sharing. But if I might make a guess: your destination may explain why you are carrying that very curious sword.”

The next sounds that came from Galen’s mouth were far from intelligible. Seira’s ear’s immediately stopped twitching as she sat up straight in her chair. Mino pushed her hands into her lap so hard they melted into it. How could she know?

“That certainly got a reaction.”

Face red as a beet, Galen slapped a hand to the back of his head. “I, uh, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

A soft chuckle emanated from Cea’s lips, her chest bouncing up and down with its cadence. “I would ask to see your sword, but something tells me it would burn my hand, should I try to touch it.”

“Geez, I feel like you have me at a disadvantage, now.” Sweat met the hand on the back of his neck, smearing over his skin.

“It was just a guess, but you can learn an awful lot simply from people’s reactions.”

“Just to be sure: you think this sword is…?”

“Toneruth.”

He swallowed, his entire body freezing as if encased in ice. She pretty much knew. Could he just admit it?

Seira gave voice to the most obvious question. “How did you know?”

Cea’s eyes drifted from Galen to Seira. “Because I’ve seen it before. And Toneruth is not a sword you forget.”

Galen found his voice again. “Then, you knew Solvet?”

“I knew the sword, traveler. I watched it be drawn and wielded. I watched it strike down monsters without leaving a mark. I watched it slice through armor, skin, and bone as if such things did not exist.” She leaned forward. “But now that it is here, and we are clear on what it is, would you mind satiating my curiosity? I would like to see it free of its scabbard once more.”

Galen glanced over to Seira and Mino in turn, taking a deep breath before sitting up straight and grasping the hilt. Holding it as gently as he could, Galen pulled the sword free, his face darkening on being once again reminded of the state of the blade. A pitifully short, jagged thing stared back at him, bare in the light of the fire. It thrummed with a low, monotone whisper, vibrating just enough to appear blurry in his vision. Cea hummed to herself, scratching her chin as she gazed at Toneruth. Her eyes narrowed on seeing the broken tip. Mumbling something under her breath, she crossed her arms and leaned back, nodding to Galen.

“Thank you. You may put it away now.”

Just as carefully as he drew it, Galen sheathed the blade, letting the clink of the guard hitting the scabbard reverberate through his ears. That was the second time he’d drawn it for the purpose of showing off to someone. Both times for arachnes, in fact. Kind of a funny coincidence.

“If you’ve, um, seen it before, is there any chance you might know how to fix it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I am no blacksmith.”

“Figures. Can’t hurt to ask, though.” He sighed, falling back into his chair.

“Please continue,” said Cea.

“Continue? Oh, my story. Yeah.” He looked to the ceiling in thought for a moment before getting back on track.

He spoke of the rest of his journey, walking through the scenes in his mind as the words came to his mouth. The river crossing and the orges chasing, their arrival at Fullsburg, waking up to Mino on him and the fight afterward, meeting the information trader, and the fight and flight from the city. Each came to mind easily enough, though he held back some detail on… certain occurrences. Cea smiled, nodded, frowned, and mused as he spoke, sometimes offering a question, but remaining silent most of the time. She hardly seemed like the intense, oppressive monster who had put Galen on the spot a moment before.

After talking about the previous night in the small forest--without mentioning Seira’s little surprise--he clasped his hands together and said, “And that’s about it. The day following that is today and we ran into Roy while he was hunting, as you know.”

Cea’s mouth turned into a whimsical smile, as if Galen’s story had made her privy to the secrets of the universe. Her fingers fell one after another onto her unblemished cheek as her eyes wandered over the three travelers in front of her. Galen thought to ask her what she was thinking, but such a question would certainly spoil whatever mood she was in, and he was of mind to avoid her ire.

She sucked in breath as if to speak, but before she could, Roy entered from the back door, his heavy footsteps announcing his arrival.

“Everyone to the dining table! There’s meat to be had!”

Galen needed no encouragement. As he left the chair, however, something like an invisible string pulled at him. He stopped halfway to standing and looked to Cea.

“Is that all you wanted to hear?”

Her smile widened, showing white teeth. She dismissed him with a wave. “It’s alright. We’ll have plenty more to talk about over a meal.”

Everyone took seat at the table as Roy brought the food in. Everyone but Sybyll, that was.

“Hey, Roy,” said Galen, “is Sybyll out there?”

“Oh, yeah. She kept me company while I cooked.” He smiled. “Felt like those eyes of hers were judging my skills, so I had to put on a good show!”

“Is she coming in?”

“Nah, said she’d wait outside a while. Guarding, or something. She’s sitting on the back porch right now, if you want to go get her.”

Galen looked down at his plate. “No.” He voice softened. “No, that’s fine. I’m sure she’s got a reason.”

“A reason to miss out on my cooking? Not in this world!”

Galen tried to find some humor in Roy’s enthusiasm, but the longer Sybyll remained outside, the longer it bothered him. Fortunately, supper conversation offered some distraction.

Cea wasn’t exaggerating when she said they’d have plenty to talk about. Galen thought his story would’ve been enough to satiate her for a while, but the ushi-oni was relentless. Roy’s exclamation about her earlier came to mind.

‘If you’re not careful, she’ll have you running your mouth till your jaw hurts.’

Never becoming more animated than a cheerful smile or a soft chuckle, she went to Seira then Mino, asking each whatever came to mind. For some reason, she didn’t ask them their entire stories as she did Galen. Could she possibly see something in them he didn’t? A warning not to pry further? Seira certainly fielded Cea’s barrage more eloquently than he did. She spoke without saying much, no matter how Cea prodded her.

To Galen, Cea’s questions seemed a bit random, but he didn’t take her for someone to waste even a single inquiry. It would be up to his wit to figure out what her aim was, however, as she answered any questions directed at her with a succinct reply. Only with urging from Roy did she reveal more, and even then it wasn’t much.

Whenever Roy had the attention of the table, it was like she was someone else. Her visible eye was more alight, her smile more genuine, her motions lax and frank. His jokes were funnier than anyone else’s, his stories more immersive, and his arguments more compelling. It almost seemed like an act from where Galen sat. Yet something told him the act was the colder, more intense version of Cea, and the true one only came out around her husband. Something was so familiar about this scene, he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

Amongst the stories, the revelry, the smiles and the glares, his shoulder itched. Amongst the sweet honey smell of meat, the sharp spices and bitter herbs, his tongue ached to ask a question. In spite of the dancing candle flames, the animated gestures, the odd way Mino’s body swayed with the conversation, he attention kept returning to the back door.

‘Where are you, Sybyll?’

  
***

  
The night whistled at Sybyll. Behind her, the buzz of conversation drifted to her ears, but she had little mind to make out the words. In the distance before her, a wall of trees swayed back and forth as if waving farewell or perhaps hello. Distant and silent, the dome of the night sky watched over her, ink black with a touch of purple that may have lost its way from a rainbow. Silhouettes in the dark cackled at her, at each other, at the gusting wind which created them. Even though she didn’t feel cold, she huddled her arms together, squeezing her biceps and feeling her rough lizard scales dig into her human skin. Two things in such contrast had no business belonging to the same creature.

Just as that ushi-oni had no business lying along her path. She was a memory, a shadow, not meant for the flesh and blood body she still possessed. Yet there she had stood, in front of Sybyll, defying what should be. Perhaps she had seen something in Sybyll’s eyes in that meeting, something that asked for her silence, as she had said nothing of their prior knowledge of each other. Sybyll could not step into that house. That was all she knew.

But that did not mean someone could step outside to her.

“Does the cold still not touch you?”

Sybyll slowly stood from the porch, turning to watch Cea as she took a seat next to her. “It has not. But I can’t help but admit to a certain chill tonight.”

Cea smirked. “No need to be so dramatic, Sybyll.”

“I speak only of fact, Sag-Sceaduwe.” Sybyll sat down where she was earlier.

“Ah!” Cea clapped her hands together. “You remembered. How flattering. I was wondering what the years would do to your memory.”

“They do the same to me as they would anyone else. My agelessness does not make me immune to atrophy of memory.”

“If that is the case, have you forgotten about the symbol you wear? I did not see it earlier. Is it still under your armor?”

Sybyll laid a claw on the inside of her thigh. “I have not forgotten. It digs into my skin with each step.”

“Then why hide it? It was meant to be shown off in the first place.”

“It is not something I wish to brag about.”

Cea sighed. “It’s hardly bragging. And even if you haven’t told me what you got it for, that doesn’t mean you should keep it a secret forever.”

Sybyll’s claw squeezed. “I am comfortable with where it is now.”

“Very well.” Cea leaned back on her arms. “Five hundred years, and you haven’t aged a day.” She chuckled. “It’s not that I ever doubted, but it’s another thing entirely to witness.”

“Your speech has changed.”

“You can thank Roy for that,” she said, smiling as she pointed a thumb over her shoulder toward the house. “I can’t say I’m unhappy with the change. Your speech has changed as well.”

“Has it? I haven’t noticed.” Sybyll turned back to the open field, looking for something to focus on. So many blades of grass offered their dance in the wind, she couldn’t pick one out amongst the sea.

Cea watched the plain with her, waiting for something more. The chilly wind beat against her fur, tickling her skin where spider met woman. A finger lowered to play with the offending fur, her smile fading the slightest bit as she looked down.

“You’re much more quiet than before.”

“Perhaps. I believe I merely have less items of importance to speak of.” Her gaze, that iron visage flinching not even for the wind, remained directed outward.

“Do you? You may be mistaken there. While you were never one to mince words, that didn’t mean you had a shortage of them, either. Even though we never came this far to the south and west, you spoke of it often. The worn trails desperately patched with rock, the towers of corn you’d hide in, how you neglected harvesting to try catching fish with your bare claws--always something.” Cea laid her hands on her two front legs. “But tonight I’ve heard not a word and caught not a glimpse of you. Do you not enjoy the memories? Does this place bring you pain?”

An tenth of an inch. No, less. But Cea caught it. That tiny shift of Sybyll’s brow, the way her lids closed that fraction of a touch. She knew Sybyll too well to let her get away with it.

Sybyll’s nostrils flared as she sucked in a great breath, her mouth still stalwartly closed till she spoke. “Pain? No, that is not the word, I do not think. The wasp’s sting of longing is too dulled for pain. It is a curiosity mixed with resolution. Odd, I must admit. I am curious about that lizardman you speak so fondly of, yet my memory blurs together too much for me to discern who that might be.” She looked downward into claw, staring at the ridges on her fingers. “Age has taken that from me, but such a thing cannot be blamed. How am I to curse the years as they pass? And what good would it do? I have duty, still. A wielder, a master. War approaches again, and I might be the one to stop it before it starts. It is as it happened last time.” Her claw closed into a fist. “And I am willing to give myself once more for that purpose. That is why they chose me, do you not think? Why they bound me to the sword? I will not forsake them.”

Cea’s hand twitched where it lay. She would have reached out to Sybyll, offered a comforting touch, should it have been possible. “You have earned more than that. Consider yourself for once, Sybyll.”

“I did.”

Meeting eyes with Sybyll, Cea offered all she could in a look. Sympathy. Empathy. Pain for a friend. Condolences. Words that could not meet the air without soiling it.

“I wish I could offer more. I hurt to see you depart again, lonely as you are.”

“I have company.”

Cea lowered her head to offer a more dangerous look from her eye. “That is not what I meant and you know it.”

“I have company enough,” said Sybyll, offering a compromise.

Slacking her shoulders, Cea gave a slight shake of her head. And dared to speak further.

“He loved you, you know.”

“I am aware.”

**Chapter 19**

The night brought on sleep. Bellies full and appetites satiated, Galen and his group found whatever nooks and crannies they could to sleep in. Mino needed nothing more than a bucket to relax in, Seira slept across two chairs, and Galen on the floor. He was offered a blanket, but when he woke up cold with chattering teeth, he noticed Seira had stolen it sometime during the night. Grumbling, he glared at her sleeping form, even knowing it was a fruitless gesture. He felt better afterward.

With a yawn, he started his morning routine. He kept as quiet as possible as not to wake anyone else, watching Seira sleep with the hopes of waking her in an annoying a fashion as possible. Finishing his stretches, he bumped his fists together and took a step toward Seira’s sleeping form. On the second step, he froze in place. Sybyll. He hadn’t seen her at all last night, even after they ate and slept. Roy had said she was fine while he cooked, and Cea went to check up on her later on, but still Sybyll hadn’t shown her face inside the house. Scrunching up his face, he promised revenge on Seira later and walked out the back door.

The cool morning air hit him in a rush. Chills ran up his spine and his hands automatically went to his arms. He was regretting not bringing heavier clothing with him. Such a silly thing to forget, really. If only he hadn’t been in such a rush to leave. Biting his lip to keep his teeth from chattering, he looked across the porch to his left to find Sybyll and Cea both awake and watching the plains. Cea had already turned and noticed him, but Sybyll remained stoic and silent.

“Good morning, Galen,” said Cea. “Did you sleep alright?”

He smiled to himself. That sounded like something his mother would ask. “Yeah. Thanks for offering your roof. It’s starting to get nasty out.”

“You should have heavier clothes, you know.”

That time Galen frowned. Definitely like his mother. “I think I’m realizing that a little late.”

Sybyll finally offered some sort of response, sighing and relaxing her shoulders, if only a touch.

“I should go back inside, get something ready to eat. Would be a shame to send you all off without breakfast.” She entered the house, leaving Galen alone with Sybyll.

He walked up next to her, rubbing his arms in attempt to keep warm. “Why didn’t you come inside to eat last night?”

“Hmph. You should know I need no food. It would’ve been awkward to refuse it from a stranger.” She still wasn’t looking at him.

“Well, you could’ve at least sat around and talked with us. I like hearing your stories.” He glanced back toward the house. “You’re much better at storytelling than Seira.”

“My experiences are obsolete or at the very least moot. My knowledge of the present is lacking.”

“Then stay and listen. There were all sorts of cool stories from Roy and Cea!” Galen gave a hop, half from excitement, half from the cold. “And the best stories are the really old ones.”

Finally, she turned, though only to raise an eyebrow at his last comment.

“Oh. Age. Yeah.” Galen's gaze fell to Sybyll's feet, but only for a moment. “You’re still cool.”

“It was important that someone stay outside and stand watch. You were vulnerable last night in relaxing and we still likely have those lamia on our tail, not to mention the natural dangers of this area which we do not yet know.” She looked back into the distance, like the plains would be offended at the lack of attention.

“I think you’re just making excuses.” He leaned toward her, getting up on his tip-toes. “Are you shy? Or not social?”

Her next breath came out harsher than usual. “I am not shy, and I needn’t be social. My duty is to your person. I felt that was clear enough.”

“Well, ‘my person’ is telling you to relax a bit. I get that the strict, succinct stuff is your thing, but you should really unwind sometimes. My dad always told me work is much more fulfilling when you’re reminded why you do it.”

She turned her head just enough to view Galen with both eyes. “And why do we do this?”

Galen slapped his cheeks in bewilderment. “You don’t know why you’re doing this? I mean, I’m traveling because Seira needs my help, and I promised the Kraken.” He was unable to meet Sybyll’s gaze for a moment. “And because I want to be someone my family can be proud of.” He poked Sybyll hard in the shoulder, trying to disrupt her balance. She didn’t budge. “I can’t tell you your own reasons. But there’s gotta be something. You can’t be following me just because.”

“I have my duty. That is all I need.”

“Uugh! That’s boring. And I know you’re not a boring monster.” He rested his forehead against her arm. Her skin was warm to the touch, stark in contrast to everything else about the morning.

“It is enough.”

That was all the explanation she offered.

Cea’s brewing in the kitchen had woken the rest of the group, as well as her husband, who hopped up onto her back while she was still busy and demanded she reveal her secrets and other such nonsense. Cea begrudgingly tolerated him all the way up until the tickling, on which she swiped him off her back and plopped him down on the floor like a troublesome child. In more than one way, he was. Galen aspired to be the same when he grew up.

By that time Seira and Mino had already woken up, Mino busying herself with examining every inch of the house and Seira grinning as her eyes ate up the sight of breakfast. Galen knew that look from the times it’d been directed at him.

They had a small breakfast together, once last excuse to gather around a table. Sybyll, of course, was absent, but Galen didn’t have it in him to go bug her about it again. They spoke about their plans over the short meal, particularly their next destination.

“Roy said you were bound for Mallus,” said Cea, looking at Galen.

He glanced over to Seira. He still wasn’t entirely sure why they were headed that way. “Yeah. Seira said there’s a pass a bit further north.”

“Indeed. The mountains surrounding the Scorched Lands are more like exaggerated hills in some places. Another day north and you’ll find one of the more agreeable passes.” Cea’s eye darkened. “But the challenge with the Scorched Lands is never the journey through the mountains. It’s the trek beyond them. You are aware of why they are called the Scorched Lands, correct?”

“Umm…” Galen pulled at his collar. “Because they were on fire?”

Cea sighed and grumbled. “No, because they ARE on fire. The Scorched Lands surround a breach to the demon realm, and the thin barrier between our world and the demon realm does little to block out the unquenchable flame.”

Galen slammed his hands on the table. “Wait, the entire place is on fire? How are we supposed to walk through that?”

“Not the ENTIRE place, Galen,” spat Seira, swallowing her food. “There are spurts of fire coming from the ground in many places, but there are roads we can take. The temperature will actually be a nice departure from this cold we’ve been walking through.”

“But the flames are not the only danger,” said Cea. “Because of the proximity to the demon realm, your mind will be assaulted by primal urges. Not as much for you, Galen, as you are human, but Mino and Seira may have a difficult time.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Perhaps.” Cea scratched at her hair. “It is not limited to sexual urges, though for most monsters, that is certainly the most dominant. As a human, you will feel urges to hunt, to hurt, and a powerful hunger. With discipline, those urges will not become a problem.” She looked to Seira. “As a manticore, Seira may--“

“I’ve been through there before. I know what it’s like,” Seira blurted out.

“On foot? Or flying across?”

“Flying.” She leaned back in her seat, trying to appear lax, but Galen had a feeling that wasn’t the case.

“The urges are much more powerful close to the ground.” Cea turned to Galen. “You will need to stay on the path. That is where the mages of Mallus will have put the waypoints which will get you through safely.”

“Waypoints? Like markers?”

“Much more than markers. Each emits a powerful dampening field. The waypoints were made to allow travelers to come and go from Mallus, but over the years, it has become less open to outsiders and the waypoints have not been maintained. Only two major roads still remain protected, and you are lucky the one you are bound for is one.”

“What’s the other?” asked Galen.

“The road heading northeast from Mallus toward Uuluth.”

Galen sat back, crossing his arms and nodding to himself. “Well, as long as we’re careful, we should be fine, right? Seira said we could make it there in a day. That’s not long at all.”

“I would hope a day is all it takes. Night in Mallus is something you wish to avoid.”

“How is--“

“I think some questions are better not asked,” Cea said, cutting him off. “Remain cautious and stalwart, and you will see Mallus. But do not underestimate the danger.”

“Right.” He nodded, then stood. “Well, I think we should be heading out. We don’t want to waste any more time.”

Everyone stood from the table. Seira gave a brief bow to Roy and shook Cea’s hand.

“Thank you,” said Seira.

“It was our pleasure. I wish you luck.” Cea nodded to Galen. “And look out for him.”

“Hey!” Galen stomped a foot, but Seira chuckled and nodded.

“I will.”

After Seira walked out, Mino stepped up. Her farewell was much more enthusiastic, vigorously shaking both Roy’s and Cea’s hand while grinning.

“It was fun! And you two are really nice! I’m putting you under ‘good’!”

Cea gave a confused look for a moment. Roy smacked a fist to his chest and grinned back. “Thank you, young slime! I’ll put you under ‘good’, too!”

Mino skipped out the back door, flashing Galen a smile before disappearing.

Taking a deep breath, Galen approached Roy first, giving him a rigid handshake. “Thanks for everything. I really needed that meal and a night out of the cold was great.”

“My pleasure! You should stop by when your journey’s all over. I’d love to hear about it and I’m sure Cea would too.” He slapped Galen’s shoulder, giving a radiant smile. For some reason, Galen’s shoulder didn’t hurt when Roy slapped it. He smiled back and nodded before moving onto Cea. She looked down at him with a half-smile, arms crossed, awaiting his farewell.

What he had wasn’t quite what she expected.

“You know Sybyll, don’t you?”

The half-smile shifted to a more curious expression, her brow arched as she appraised Galen. “What makes you say that?”

“You said you knew the sword Toneruth, but you can’t really know the sword without knowing Sybyll. And she’s been acting a little weird the whole time we were here.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I wasn’t entirely sure until just a few minutes ago, when you were talking about having trouble with Mallus. You said Mino and Seira would have a hard time, but not Sybyll. How could you know that stuff like that wouldn’t affect her? You have to have known her.”

She pinched her chin between two long fingers, giving a slight nod. “Indeed. Yes, I knew her, but it was many years ago.”

“With Solvet?”

“The circumstances of our association are not for me to reveal. Sybyll will tell you if she wishes.”

Galen bundled up his face into a frown. “That’s not a fair answer.”

“It is all I can offer.” She leaned forward, laying a hand on Galen’s shoulder. “But you are a perceptive kid. You noticed her turmoil, read between the lines and picked up on the information I gave you. So I will give you something more.” Her hand squeezed. “Sybyll is too concerned with the present, too sure of the future and too dismissive of the past. She puts no value in herself. I do believe you are someone who can help her, but only with time and care. Ask her about herself. Make her put her life to words.” She paused, glancing to the back door. “And if she is too stubborn to see even then, ask about the object she hides beneath her armor, low on the inside of her thigh. Do not mention it if you can avoid it; it would be best for her to mention it on her own. I regret even needing to tell you of it.”

“What is it?”

Cea paused, looking down at the floor. She raised her head when she had the answer. “Her greatest contradiction.”

Galen stood silent a moment, blinking as he stared into Cea’s concerned gaze. He hoped to pry some further answer from her body language, but all he understood was her sincerity. It was possible she didn’t know any more than that, or the answer she gave was the best for him to hear. Either way, he knew enough to not ask further.

“She’s in good hands,” he said, nodding.

Cea smirked. Crossing her arms again, she stood up straight. “Don’t go thinking she’s a child to be coddled. That will get you in trouble quicker than an lamia’s coils wrap up her prey.”

“Got it.”

She waved him out the door. “Now off you go. Your friends are waiting. Best of luck.”

He grinned as wide as his mouth would allow. “Thanks!”

And the group was off once again.

  
**

  
Galen kept to himself for a while, huddling up to keep the brisk wind at bay. He didn’t trust himself to keep from blabbering about the only real hint Cea had given him, or to pester Sybyll with endless questions about her past. If he gave her much attention right away, she’d probably figure out Cea was involved. Given her demeanor back at the house, he wasn’t sure she wanted all that much to do with Cea. What had those two been back then, anyways? Friends? Acquaintances? Rivals? Cea knew an awful lot about her for anything less than a friend.

He turned toward the back of the group, where Sybyll’s pace kept her. She still watched the area with her razor eye, but her movements seemed more strict. Artificial. She was keeping back further than before, too. Grumbling to himself, Galen looked forward and jogged a few steps. He had to at least give Sybyll time to decompress, as much as it might bug him.

The dead leaves and twigs covering the forest floor crunched beneath each step, the only sound echoing throughout the forest as the group moved forward. Even Mino wasn’t making much noise. No humming, no exclamations of wonderment, just a quiet but lively skip that weaved through the trees. She reminded him of himself when he’d first set out on this journey. Hopefully she could stay that way, amusing herself with the scenery, having fun with each encounter, and keeping a light heart not matter what. Maybe it would be a good idea to amuse himself, too, in order to make keeping away from Sybyll easier.

Now that he thought about it, he had something he wanted to ask Mino anyways. Huffing and grasping his arms tighter for warmth, he jogged up to her.

“Hey, Mino.”

Her head turned but the rest of her body continued forward as if she was still looking ahead. Galen cringed, but continued.

“Back when we left Cea and Roy’s house, you said you we’re putting them under ‘good’. What did you mean by that?”

Her skip stopped, turning into a gaudy stride. “’Cause she’s a good monster and he’s a good person! Why else?”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s just a little odd to put people in categories like that. Yeah, they’re good, but why define it? Do you do that with everyone you meet?”

“Mm-hmm.” She smacked her lips. “That’s why I’m traveling around!”

Galen cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

“Mmm, well,” she said, intertwining her fingers behind her, “lots of people and monsters always say they want to be ‘good’. It’s a big deal. But everyone has says good is a different thing. So I decided to go around the world and figure out what ‘good’ really was.”

“Just like that? Didn’t you want to stay with your parents?”

“Parents? I guess you could call the slime I split off from my mom, but queen slimes are the only slimes that really make families. As soon as I was formed, my mom left and I started exploring.”

Galen’s mouth floundered open and closed, trying to find a proper response. “W-what? She just dropped you off and left? How were you supposed to fend for yourself?”

“I learned pretty fast. And slimes pass on a lot of basic knowledge when they split off. She didn’t need to stay around.” Closing her eyes, she stuck her tongue out at Galen. “We’re not slow like humans.”

Galen tried to laugh, but his chuckle was forced. “Maybe, but parents are a great thing. There’s more than just learning. Humans make a genuine connection with them and they help us through all sorts of things.”

“Not all the time.”

“Huh?”

“Lots of humans don’t like their parents. They run away or act mean to them.” She spoke as if she was stating the most ordinary thing in the world, her exaggerated stride uninterrupted. “So maybe they’re good, maybe not.”

“That’s…” Galen rubbed his forehead. “That’s kinda harsh. I know things are sometimes complicated with parents, but they’re always just looking out for their kids.”

“You’re probably right.” Mino leapt, spinning in mid-air and sticking the landing. She shot Galen a smile as if expecting praise for her acrobatics.

Maybe speaking with her wasn’t the best idea. Galen scratched his head, trying to figure out what to say next. He had to have words for this, didn’t he? It just didn’t make sense for Mino to go on believing something so… raw, so cruel. Parents always had their kids’ best interests in mind. The way slimes treated their offspring wasn’t right. Mino deserved a better.

Galen’s stride quickened, his frustration flowing into his steps. His breaths came out shallow, the fall air stale on his tongue. Mino wasn’t wrong, per se. She just misunderstood the facts, that was all. He clutched his arms closer to his chest. His father should be here, or his mother. They would know what to say to her, how to explain parents the right way. Dads were strong and strict, examples to follow in all the things that made a man a man. That’s why Galen was here now: because all the heroes and adventures from the stories his dad told him were real men, valuable and respectable. Moms were wise and kind, women who showed you how to think first, how to show mercy, and they knew all the things you’d never think of. But in words alone, that knowledge felt so hollow. How was Mino supposed to learn all that on her own?

Grumbling, he kicked at the dirt. Whatever happened to her and her mother back then didn’t matter any more. He’d have to teach her himself, now that she was part of his group.

The plains were upon them once more. Galen looked skyward as they left the forest, squinting at the afternoon sun and sighing. In the distance, he could make out the mountain range they were heading toward... though it didn’t look much as like ‘mountains’ as it did ‘large hills’. None of the mounds truly pierced the sky, and none were tipped with snow. He frowned. He’d been looking forward to seeing real mountains for the first time, even if the idea of fighting through snow in this weather wasn’t all that appealing.

This sunshine didn’t agree with the cold at all. Neither Mino nor Seira seemed affected by it, and Sybyll couldn’t be in her state.

Galen’s steps slowed, his brow furrowing. Was Sybyll really immune? Ever since they’d left Fullsburg, he’d felt she was a little different. Her touch was warm instead of neutral like before. She’d also been able to handle his clothes after they were off his body. What had she said earlier? She would change as his bond with Toneruth grew? He absent-mindedly laid a hand on its hilt. He didn’t feel like his bond was growing. Heck, he didn’t feel any sort of bond with the sword. But nevertheless, Sybyll was changing. His first instinct was to turn around and ask her about it, but shook his head at the idea. Not yet.

As the hours beat down on them, Galen grew more and more twitchy. He didn’t want to talk to Mino, because he now had no idea where a conversation with her would go. He couldn’t talk to Sybyll; she needed time alone. He supposed he could talk with Seira, but he didn’t know what he would say to her. And it wasn’t just his silence that tugged at him, but everyone else’s. Seira and Sybyll sometimes talked, Mino could probably chat with Sybyll no problem, and heck, with a little effort, Seira and Mino could get along. But they almost never interacted unless spurred on by the journey or something Galen did. Weren’t people and monsters who traveled so far together supposed to be friends?

The realization almost made Galen stop in his tracks. They might not be friends, and he had no idea how to make them become friends, either. He may have learned many things from his parents and the other villagers, but never how to get people to be friendly with each other. Sure, he could make friends with people and monsters himself, but this problem was something altogether different. Working his jaw back and forth, he about started pulling his hair out. Out of all the problems to be having, this was the last thing he’d expected. It was such a silly problem, too. All they needed to do was talk with each other. Surely they could find something in common, something they liked about each other. Galen smacked a fist into his open palm. That was it: he’d get them to talk!

Not wanting to waste any time and desperate to stave off his growing boredom, Galen jogged ahead to catch up with Seira. She glanced back to him on hearing his approach, having a smug grin prepared by the time he was at her side.

“Little surprised to see you keep quiet for so long. Didn’t know it was possible.”

A quip. At least she was in a good mood. “I’m plenty good at being quiet when I need to be. Besides, my father told me--“

A paw pushed against his chest, cutting him off. “Please, spare me any more of those juicy sentimental ‘sayings’ you seem so fond of.”

“Well excuse me for wanting to have some depth. They’re pretty valuable if you take them to heart, you know.”

“I’m sure.” She didn’t sound sure at all.

“So how far out is this pass? Did our stop at Roy and Cea’s place slow us down?”

“Not enough to make a difference. We’ll hit it a little before nightfall and hopefully make it a little ways through. That way when the sun rises tomorrow we can get started through the Scorched Lands right away.”

He nodded. “Say, remember how you said you like to watch people and monsters? Learn how they act and stuff?”

“I remember saying something to that effect, yes.”

“Well, you know, I was just talking with Mino, and she said she likes to do the same thing, too.”

Seira turned to Galen, scrunching her brow and tilting her head forward a bit to give him a darker look. He didn’t say anything more, letting Seira scrutinize him before saying, “I’m trying to figure out if that was an insult or the least-subtle hint you could possibly give for me to talk to her.”

“It definitely wasn’t an insult.”

Her mouth curled into a frown. “Galen, I’m not talking to that thing! What we should do is leave her and let her live her slime life away from us. She’s going to bring trouble. The only reason I’m tolerating her now is because there are other, more important things to worry about. That’s my thoughts on the subject, and they’re not going to change.”

His frown matched hers. “I don’t know why you are so insistent on hating her. She hasn’t even done anything bad. In fact, she got you out of your cell, then me out of the city! She’s been a big help!”

“She’s a red slime,” she said, her lips and tongue punching out each word. “That means she’s smart and scheming. I don’t know what her plan is, but whatever it is, it’s going to ruin us at the worst possible moment.”

“I still don’t understand why you think she has it out for us.”

“Because that’s what they do.” She crossed her arms and raised her chin. “I hope you figure that out before someone pays.”

With that, the discussion was over. Her posture left no room for rebuttal. Galen’s tongue squirmed nervously in his mouth, but said nothing further. It wasn’t like Seira would listen, anyways.

Dulled thoughts and wearied legs did little to help the next few hours. Every time he tried to cheer himself up, Galen was reminded in some fashion about how poorly things were really going. Sure, they may have left the lamia behind, but everyone drifted further and further away on a horrid current of silence. The journey to nighttime passed with a sour taste on his tongue and a sinking feeling in his stomach.

The passage through the mountains was so unimpressive he didn’t see it until the group was upon it. Seira came to stop, allowing everyone to catch up. Galen watched Sybyll, her face calm as ever, as she approached the rest of the group. He wasn’t sure, but he thought her steps may have been a bit heavier than normal.

Seira stepped forward. “Well, I was hoping the moon would provide us a little more light, but it looks like that isn’t the case. I’m sure Sybyll and I will be able to manage just fine, but I don’t know about you, Galen.”

He looked at the ground to test his eyes. She was right about the light; he couldn’t make out much detail at all.

“I know this is a bit hazardous, but if you stick with me, I’ll guide you through around obstacles and help you keep your footing. We could rest here, but believe me when I say we should allow ourselves as much daytime as possible tomorrow for our passage through the Scorched Lands.”

Turning to Sybyll, he asked for her opinion with a look. She replied with a stern nod.

Galen shrugged. “Alright. If this really is the only way to go, I guess we should do it the right way.” He nodded at Mino. “You should stay with Sybyll. Don’t get separated in the dark.”

“Yessir!” she said with an stiff stance, arms slapping to her sides. Rolling his eyes, he wondered if she ever truly took anything seriously. He would’ve cautioned her, had Seira not seized his hand in one of her fluffy paws and dragged him forward.

Just as he suspected, the ascent up the shadowed path didn’t go so smoothly for him. While he wasn’t stumbling every few steps, there were plenty of times he almost landed with his face in the dirt or on a rock. The path was littered with uneven ground, rocks jutting out of the dirt, and the occasional hole where an animal may have once lived. Every time he started falling, however, Seira caught him. Her grip stayed true and her strength was plenty to keep him up, even when her own footing was uneven. A few thanks were mumbled, though he couldn’t quite make out whatever expression was on her face each time she caught him. He imagined she was enjoying the bit of power she had over him, showing strength where he showed weakness. Guiding him through unknown ground with him at her mercy.

So busy stewing he was that he almost crashed into her when she came to a halt. His mouth opened to ask why, but he got his answer all too soon.

“The great demon is not with us, it seems. We have visitors, and something tells me they’re not friendly.”

Oh, boy.

**Chapter 20**

For all his blinking and squinting, Galen couldn’t quite make out what Seira was glaring at. It appeared there was a viciously-steep incline ahead of them and at the top were three rather wide figures, but beyond that it was just darkness on black to him. His grip on Seira’s paw tightened.

She squeezed back.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Messengers from Medusuub, Seira. She wants you to die.”

Seira sneered. “How considerate for you to come all this way to deliver a message. I’d ask you to tell her the feeling is mutual, but I don’t plan on letting you live long enough to do so.” Her muscles bulged, knees bending and wings spreading out. Galen could practically see the fierce heat radiating from her body, a glowing red against the backdrop of night.

She turned halfway back to Galen, leaving one eye on the enemies ahead. “It’s a mothman and two harpies. Charging up at all three of them would be suicide with their height advantage and all the time they had to prepare. I’m going to fly off and hopefully drag them with me. Use that chance to get up the slope and I’ll come back.”

Galen seized her elbow. “We’re not splitting up! I decided that last--“

“Now is not the time for your stupid bravado! Now GO!”

In an explosion of wings and muscles, Seira burst into the air and buzzed by the enemies ahead. Not a breath behind, the two harpies took off, screeching with rage. Galen winced as the high-pitched shriek assaulted his ears, but he didn’t dare occupy his hands with covering his head while the mothman remained watching him. He saw three silhouettes blink past the moon. He wanted to yell at Seira for being so hasty, but it wouldn’t do any good. Growling to himself, he looked back to the path ahead.

The incline was dangerously steep. Getting up there with his current visibility would be a slow, tricky process. Impossible with that mothman waiting for an opportunity to strike. He’d need some way to get up instantly or otherwise occupy the mothman as he ascended.

“Galen.”

He turned around to see Sybyll and Mino watching him. His eyes narrowed in concentration as he bit his lower lip. With one last glance at the slope, he motioned Sybyll and Mino in close.

“Sybyll, how fast do you think you could make it up that incline?”

“I would be able to sprint up it.”

His eyes widened a moment. “Really? Sprint up that steep of a slope?”

“Yes. My claws are excellent at digging into the ground and would give me the necessary speed and traction.”

“Mino?”

“Umm…” She stuck a finger in her mouth. “I think I could do it kinda okay. Not as fast as Sybyll, though.”

Galen took a deep breath. Good thing it was dark out--he didn’t want Sybyll to see his blush as he asked, “Can you carry me up there while running? I’d be too slow on my own.”

“It is possible. It would slow me, of course.” Her voice didn’t change in the slightest. Either she didn’t detect his hesitance, or didn’t care.

“Good. Mino, you go up at the same time. We’ll give the mothman two targets so she can’t stop us b--“

Galen’s sentence cut off when Sybyll yanked him to the side. At the same time, a loud thunk came from the ground right around their feet.

“I think I’ve given you enough time to chat,” said the mothman, lightly tossing a sizable rock up and down in her hand. “Now try and get up here already.”

Galen cursed under his breath, then looked down where the sound had come from. Yup, she was throwing rocks at them. Wouldn’t do much to Sybyll or Mino, but one solid hit on him could put him out for a while.

“Sybyll. Let’s go.”

Needing no ceremony, she plucked Galen up off the ground, tucked him under one arm, and took off. Had she not just told him he’d slow her, he would’ve thought she was running full-speed. Her long strides ate up ground at a surprising pace. The air, which had been a still chill a moment ago, transformed into a harsh, gusting wind on his face. He swallowed, his own muscles tensing in preparation. Just as Sybyll hit the slope, he heard a screech from the sky. The harpies were still singing their song at Seira.

No time to think about her, though. Galen gritted his teeth and kept his eyes forward.

The mothman, too, had jumped into action, tossing a flurry of rocks down the slope at Sybyll and Galen. Mino kept up a bit behind them, but the mothman probably had figured rocks would do little to a slime. Sybyll weaved in and out of the barrage, putting her ankles through a dizzying array of twists, spins, and turns. Even as fast as Sybyll was, the occasional rock would come dangerously close to Galen or pass through Sybyll completely. Galen couldn’t keep himself from flinching as each splotch of dark came for him. It was bad enough that he needed Sybyll to carry him up the slope, but he was also helpless to knock the rocks away. His eyes were piss poor in this situation and his reactions would’ve been too slow even if there was more moonlight.

Sybyll crested the slope, leaping up to the landing on which the mothman stood. She released Galen the second his feet found purchase and drew her sword. Galen was a couple seconds slower with Toneruth.

He was just in time. The mothman’s own weapon, a halberd, came swinging down towards Galen’s head. The axe blade met the broken form of Toneruth, the impact jarring Galen’s arms and traveling all the way through his body to his feet. But he held. His teeth were crushing together so hard he thought they might shatter. He glowered at the mothman’s confident smile, tossing her halberd tip away and readying himself for her next attack. She gave Sybyll no attention and Galen still had a few tense seconds before Mino would join them. Even with Mino up there, he didn’t know how well the fight would go. For now, he would have to rely on himself.

He drew Toneruth back slightly into a more defensive position, trying to make out the mothman’s posture in the dark. But her silhouette reminded him less of a mothman and more of a bulky man the way her wings blocked the moonlight and how she stood with that halberd at the ready. She could even be a guard like that, bulked up by armor and a righteous glare in her eyes. It would not be the first guard he attacked.

His grip on Toneruth wavered.

The halberd came out of nowhere, the mothman’s movements blurred by speed and poor lighting. Galen reacted just in time to shove Toneruth in the way, a involuntary gasp escaping his mouth as he stiffened up. The halberd’s speartip glanced off the flat of Galen’s sword and retracted instantly. Galen didn’t even have the chance to catch his breath before another lunge came. Again, he deflected it just in time. Jab after jab sought to seek its way into Galen’s chest. He was forced to retreat further and further, even though he had no idea what was behind him. His reactions were only barely quick enough. He knew that soon he’d either miss a block or stumble on some unseen rock. He had to do something.

Again. It was happening again. Just like his first encounter with the lamia in the forest, then his fight with them in the streets of Fullsburg. The time he’d spent learning how to fight on Nox and with Sybyll accounted to nothing in the face of such skill and speed. Sybyll made his swordplay look like that of a child’s. Maybe that’s all he was out here: a hopeless kid without an ounce of strength to hold himself up. Seira, Mino, and Sybyll were doing all the work. All he had was a broken sword.

His muscles burned. On the mothman’s next attack, Galen gave a short leap backwards, planted his feet, then swung Toneruth with all his strength at the halberd, hoping to knock it away and catch the mothman off-balance. The fibers on Toneruth’s hilt dug into his hands as he swung. The air whistled as the blade cut through it. His aim was true, his speed dizzying. Axe head met blade.

Toneruth broke off at the point of contact.

Galen followed through only on instinct, but his wide eyes were focused solely on the new break. The broken-off piece of metal flew in silence, landing away from Galen. He stared, dumbstruck and almost not remembering to breathe, at the weapon in his hands. It could hardly be called a sword anymore--it was more like a dagger in length, with a much less impressive tip. The jagged break line taunted him, laughing at his weakness, his callous ideals, his inability with a sword. His legs wobbled and his jaw fell open.

The mothman, while somewhat surprised at the sudden strike, recovered much quicker and would’ve skewered the shocked Galen had Sybyll not thrown herself forward. While Sybyll was unable to fight the mothman, she was capable of blocking her vision. The mothman cursed, then barreled through Sybyll’s body to get at Galen. She smirked at his pathetic state and drew the halberd back for one last jab.

Before she could thrust, however, slime enveloped her head. Her eyes lit up in surprise and she dropped the halberd to claw at the advancing goo, her face twisting into rage. Wings flared outward and the mothman braced to take off, but slime covered her wings as well. She lost her balance and fell to the ground, still desperate to get Mino off her face. Excess slime flew about as the mothman’s hands tossed more and more of Mino’s body away, but Mino kept her body flowing and the tossed slime crawled back to re-feed her. Before long, the mothman’s struggles ceased and she went limp, unconscious. Mino held on a few seconds extra to be sure, but collected herself into her usual form and clapped, looking at her work.

Sybyll, meanwhile, had shifted her attention to Galen.

“Galen!” She grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “Get a hold of yourself!”

Blinking, his eyes came back into focus, the world around the dagger in his hand returning to more than just a blur. He swallowed and the sounds of the night returned to him as well. His eyes went to the mothman’s unconscious form, then Mino, then Sybyll. He registered their eyes on him before breaking away from Sybyll and scanning the ground around them.

“The sword piece! Toneruth broke again, we need to get the part that broke off!” He dropped to his knees to look, but Mino called out before he could start.

“I think I stepped on it. It burned me,” she said, pointing at the ground next to her.

Galen scrambled over and snatched up the metal piece, sighing when he matched it up to the rest of the sword. “Man, I dunno what I’d do if I’d have lost that. Seems like all I’m good for nowadays is holding onto this thing.”

Mino opened her mouth to console him, but the scene was shattered when a whirlwind by the name of Seira cut off her dive and landed right next to them. 

“Look out!”

The harpies chasing her shrieked again, coming forward with gnarled talons reaching for their prey. Their swooping attack aimed only for Seira, who ducked and dodged out of the way with her impressive manticore speed. As the harpies caught air and started backing back toward the group for another strike, Sybyll jogged up next to Seira.

“Are you well?”

“Tch.” Seira sneered, scoffing off to the side. “Who talks like that in the middle of a fight? But yes, I’m fine. We just need to ground those harpies and this fight is over. Galen?”

He froze under her stare, looking up to the harpies then back to Seira. “Uhh, I don’t really know if I can…” He slammed Toneruth and the broken-off piece back into its sheath. Not like it would help much as it was now.

Seira screwed up her face with an incredulous stare. “Seriously? Your sword would be perfect for this. The shock would disrupt their flapping and they’d crash.”

Face red, Galen lowered his eyes to the ground. He’d probably just break Toneruth even more if he tried. “I can’t. Sorry.”

“Are you seriously moping? At a time like this?” Her lips curled into a snarl, but the harpies cut off her lecture with a screech. She braced herself for the next attack, raising her tail over her head. Mino scrambled to stand next to her.

When the harpies swooped in, Seira let loose several spines from her tail. Galen couldn’t follow the projectiles with his eyes, but one of the harpies’ flight path quickly deteriorated and she slammed into the ground. The other one got a good swipe at Seira’s tail with her talons, dragging a shout of pain from Seira’s mouth. Mino pounced before the harpy could gain altitude again, her slime body stretching to impossible proportions, latching on to the harpy and splashing into the harpy’s body with an audible whiplash. Mino allowed the harpy only one good flap of her wings before she was bound up and crashing into the slope, tumbling down it like a rock. Galen winced with each sopping splat the ball of slime and harpy made as it bounced along the slope. When it hit the flat ground at the bottom with a splatter, his wince turned into a concerned frown. Could Mino really be alright after all that punishment?

A guttural roar snapped his attention back to Seira. She was sprinting toward the nearby harpy, claws out and ready to swing. While able to stand, the harpy was hardly steady on her feet. Galen understood why; he’d been hit with Seira’s poison before. It was odd to think of as a weapon, but he certainly couldn’t argue its effectiveness.

Seira’s attacks came hard and fast. Claws reached out, swiping at the harpy’s head and chest. The harpy somehow found the concentration to duck and dodge, but Seira’s speed left the harpy no room for a counterattack, and with the poison working on her, she couldn’t build up the concentration or space to take off. Even with the enormous advantage Seira seemed to have, Galen couldn’t help but swallow as he watched. A drop of sweat fell down his neck.

It was only a matter of time for the harpy. One claw found purchase in her stomach and she doubled over in pain. The next blow came crashing down on the back of her head and she fell to the ground, limp. Seira went to her knees atop the harpy, pinning her wings and watching for further movement, but her opponent gave not so much as a twitch. Instead of relaxing and getting up, however, Seira raised her paw one last time, her face twisting into a snarl.

“Stop!”

The snarl wavered and Seira’s paw lowered a bit. Her eyes were locked on Galen.

He had to stare at her for a few seconds to realize it had been him who’d called out. Why did he do that? Looking at the unconscious harpy beneath Seira, then the downed mothman, he pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. He kept seeing that guard’s unconscious body, no matter how he looked at it. It was happening again. Maybe it wasn’t exactly the same as last time, but it was close enough for the signs to be clear to Galen. They’d won. Their enemies wouldn’t trouble them any more. It was time to stop. Flaring his nostrils, he jogged over to Seira.

“They’re unconscious. We can move on now.”

The look of pure, unbridled disbelief on Seira’s face almost knocked him off his feet. The force of her voice afterward didn’t help. “Are you INSANE? They tried to KILL US, Galen! This is not some kind of game you play with your village friends. This is war, and in war, people and monsters die. Get over it before it bloody kills you!”

Her paw went up again, but this time Galen seized it and held it in place. “No! We can’t do it this way! It’s not worth it!”

“Oh, I think our lives are damn well worth it!” she snapped back, trying to wrestle her paw free.

“If we beat them once, we can beat them again! Besides, how do you know they’ll even be able to find us? There are rocky hills and mountains all around us. Surely we can find some cover, sleep, and by the time we wake up they’ll be off our trail!”

“You have no idea how ignorant you’re being right now!” Seira tossed Galen’s hand off of her, standing up to loom over him. She jabbed at his chest with a claw. “I’m risking my life fighting out here, even got tossed in a jail cell because the lamia caught you, and all you have for me is your stupid idealistic wishes? The world doesn’t work your way! Just because Nox has a peaceful life doesn’t mean the rest of us can live like that. You know what’ll happen if we leave these monsters alive? They WILL chase us, they WILL find us, and they WILL strike at the worst possible time. Not to mention we’ve already got that demon-cursed slime plotting whatever she’s plotting! If these monsters don’t die, we will. End of story!”

Galen entire body shook. His lips quivered and a torrent of words fought each other to climb their way up his throat. His eyes shone for the first time that night, brighter than even the moon, and they were aimed square at the red-hot glare in Seira’s.

“You can’t know that! We can still get away! And besides, aren’t you going to be the next monster lord? What kind of a leader murders her own subjects? Shouldn’t you be trying to save as many of them as possible? Shouldn’t you forgive this at least once?”

His yelling finally found weight. Seira’s eyes softened and she looked away for a moment. Her muscles relaxed the tiniest bit. “How could you possibly know what a monster lord’s supposed to be like? You can’t lecture ME about my actions. You’re ignorant. You don’t have training and years of learning like I do! You haven’t stood in the monster lord’s castle or witnessed the weight and respect of that title first-hand!”

“Who are you trying to convince, Seira? I know I don’t have any of that. I never pretended I did.” He extended a hand toward the harpy’s coarsely-breathing body on the ground. “So why don’t you tell me how killing her is going to make you a better monster lord? Show me what a monster lord is supposed to do in this situation. Because if it’s all about killing, them I’m not sure I’d want to help even you get that title back.” His upper lip curled upward. “I liked you better when you weren’t so concerned with killing everyone in your path.”

Her eyes ignited once more. “Don’t you--“

“Seira. Galen.” Sybyll spoke without urgency, but her voice carried enough weight to take their argument and pin it to the ground. “Our enemies are unconscious and we must hurry as far as we can tonight. Such arguments are best left for another time.” Mino came back up the slope to join them, though even her presence didn’t distract Seira from her glowering at Galen. She turned back to the harpy, but Galen grabbed her shoulder.

The look she shot him nearly seared his eyes out.

“You asked me to do this, Seira,” said Galen.

“Because I thought you’d be smart about it. Defending these monsters is pointless. Foolish.”

He had to make her accept his decision, and he had to do it now. She’d just come back here and kill them on her own once they’d started out if he didn’t. They had no more time to argue. “If you kill them, I’m not helping you any more. You’ll have to go to Mallus on your own.”

Her eyes narrowed, funneling an inferno of hate at Galen. While he stared back as stiffly as he could, the raw emotion in her stare almost knocked him back. He felt like little more than a puddle on the ground, one Seira was raising her paw over and about to stomp on. She held the glare for an eternity.

Keeping her eyes locked on Galen the entire time, she slowly shifted away from the harpy until she faced the path onward. Her claws were still out, ready to strike, her wings were spread, and her tail was raised up and swaying like a viper. Even so, she stepped away from the unconscious harpy. Before breaking her glare away, she spit at Galen’s feet and wiped her mouth with a forearm. She bobbed side to side in her stride as she walked forward, each paw hitting the ground with a reverberating thud.

“Stick with Sybyll from now on. I’m done guiding you through this.”

She didn’t wait for the rest of them.

Galen let out a long, audible breath, watching his chest as the air fled his lungs. They wouldn’t be conversing any time soon, though he sure hoped she wouldn’t stay mad forever. He slowly ran a hand through his hair. She’d asked him to do that, right? Why would she be so mad if he stood up for something when it mattered most? Was it just a girl thing? A manticore thing? He closed his eyes. His dad would probably have the answer. Home felt even further away than it had at Cea’s house. There was no one out here to soothe him or guide his feelings or justify his decisions. It was only him. He raised his head. That would have to be good enough for now.

He looked over to Mino. “Ready?”

She met his question with a smile, bounding over to grab his arm. “Yup! Are you?”

“Hopefully.” He turned to Sybyll, asking her the same as he did Mino.

Sybyll answered with a nod, then extended a claw to him. “Stay close. We’ll have to move quickly to keep up with Seira.”

He grabbed her claw and she grasped him back, firm but not too tightly, and guided him forward. Mino remained clinging to his arm, her grasp constantly in flux. She made something of a game of it. Her limb started out as a hand, but lost form and shifted to a many-fingered claw, then a hook, then a ring of goo that sucked on his arm. Every now and then, she’d move her grip upward, almost touching his shoulder a few times. He wanted to tell her to knock it off, but couldn’t bring himself to threaten that oblivious smile on her face. Just because he was sour didn’t mean she had to be as well.

Sybyll keep her eyes searching and her stance alert in stark contrast to Mino. Her grip on Galen’s hand remained the same as they traveled, pulling him left or right every now and then around obstacles. Galen could hardly make out a thing, but it was clear they were still moving higher, and there was little to block out the increasingly-chilly wind. Only in the distance to his left and right could he make out deep shadows of solemn mountains. He tried as hard as he could to block out Seira’s warnings, but he couldn’t keep himself from checking the sky to see if they were being chased. A persistent part of him told him to turn around and finish the job, that Seira was right, and it wasn’t worth shunning her for something as ridiculous as letting mortal enemies live.

After several hours of the same, his legs were ready to give out from under him. His breathing was strained and his eyes wavering. The air had only grown colder and the path rougher, throwing more and more obstacles and rocky terrain at them. Mino would tug at his arm and give him a concerned look every now and then, but he would only answer with a wearied shake of his head and a faint smile before looking back forward. Sybyll’s halt caught him off-guard and he bumped into her back. Blinking, he stepped up to her side to see what had caused her to stop. More enemies?

“I see a suitable area of rest. I will guide us there, then fetch Seira.”

“Yeah,” mumbled Galen. Rest sounded really good.

A couple minutes later, Sybyll pointed into a tiny cave jutting out of the rock. Though, ‘cave’ hardly described it. It was more like a lean-to of rocks. There couldn’t be room for any more than two people.

“Is this going to be enough?” said Galen. “I mean, there are four of us.”

“The weather has no effect on me, and I can find a better place to hide myself from the mothman and harpies, should they return. Mino is also unaffected by weather, and can hide herself wherever she wishes. This alcove will be enough for you and Seira.”

That did little to ease his mind. Not only would they need to convince Seira to tolerate occupying the same space as Galen, but even if they did, she would likely make it as miserable for him as possible. She certainly had the tools.

A gust of wind reminded Galen exactly how cold it was. His hands went to his arms, rubbing them up and down, his skin ice-cold beneath his fingers. Giving a light shiver, he hunkered down and squeezed himself as far back as he could into the alcove. Just as he got settled, he realized exactly how much better it was. Sure, it didn’t block all the cold, but at least he wasn’t feeling like an ice cube any more. He brought his legs to his chest, stuffing his hands between his stomach and legs. With a little time, he’d be able to feel them again.

Mino’s head poked out of the entrance. She smiled and waved, inspecting the small shelter before looking at Galen.

“I can block the entrance once Scary Seira gets in. That way, there won’t be any wind to worry about.”

Galen smiled at the offer, but had his doubts. “Seira might not be alright with that.”

“Oh. Right.” Her smile vanished.

“Don’t worry about her. I’m sure she’ll come around eventually. I don’t even see why she’s so angry at slimes in the first place.”

“Well, it could be she’s speciesist.”

Galen cocked his head. “That’s a thing?”

“Yeah. Slimes and s--“

A large paw seized her head and pushed it away from the alcove entrance. “Move.” Seira’s tone was as dry as a desert. She frowned on seeing Galen already inside, but scooted in regardless. There was barely enough space for the two of them lying down. Her tail and wings pressed against Galen as she squirmed into a comfortable position, eventually settling on her side, paws under her head, her body shoving Galen into the back wall. When Mino came back to the entrance to cover it up, Seira growled. Her wings and tail stiffened a bit, digging into Galen’s skin as she glared at the intruder.

“I don’t want to see your slime face any more than necessary. Go away until I’m gone.” After a soft shuffling, Galen assumed Mino had left. He couldn’t see too well from his current position.

He opened his mouth, hoping to at least thin the tension in the air before going to sleep, but Seira cut him off.

“If I hear as much as a single gasp, I’ll shove my tail so far down your throat it’ll come out your ass. Barbs and all.”

So much for that.

**Chapter 21**

Waking was as peaceful as a hurricane.

“Get up, lazy!”

Galen curled into a ball after a sudden kick connected with his stomach. Nausea rattled his weary mind awake, a strained groan coming out of his mouth as he fought to keep yesterday’s food in. Sensations slowly came to him, first the cold sting of a stiff, uneven bed, then the wispy touch of a foreign wind, and lastly the smell of damp rock. Blinking, he looked to the exit of the small alcove he’d slept in, memory of last night coming to him in a rush. The fight with the harpies and mothman, the argument with Seira, and the dark trek afterward.

Seira stood at the alcove’s exit, grimacing down at him. She kicked him again when he wasn’t quick enough for her.

“This isn’t the time for slacking. Since we still have monsters on our tail, we have to get going now.” She spat the words at him as if they might draw blood. With her glare, he felt they could.

He scrambled outside, keeping an eye on Seira as he got to his feet and braced to feel the chill wind once again. When he left his shelter, however, he was pleasantly surprised to find the air tolerably warm. He rubbed his bare skin briefly to check and make sure he wasn’t out of his mind.

“Is it… warmer?”

“Yes,” said Sybyll from behind him, leaning against one of the rock walls that made his shelter. “We are very close to the Scorched Lands. Yesterday the wind was blowing in towards them, but now it has changed directions and we are feeling residual heat.” She stood up off the wall and uncrossed her arms. “It will get worse as we travel.”

“He’ll find out for himself soon enough. Let’s get going,” said Seira. She didn’t leave it up for argument, turning on a heel and making her way towards the Scorched Lands.

Just like last night, she kept a good distance in front of Galen and the others. Luckily, he could actually see the path ahead now, though the sun had only just begun its ascent over the horizon. Sybyll stayed a short ways behind while Mino stuck to his side like tar. He appreciated the company, but his thoughts were in a hundred places at once. Seira was still mad at him, and he couldn’t decide whether or not she was in the right. The once-sword called Toneruth had been broken again, reducing it to even less of a weapon than it was before. He had a handful of things to say to Sybyll, but he still wanted to wait a bit longer before bringing them up. And the thing that worried him most at the moment laid right ahead: the journey through the Scorched Lands.

He could only imagine what the place was like. Fire spurting up from the ground, inhibitions lowered to the point of losing sanity, swarms of wild monsters prowling for prey, and demons of a strength unseen in the outside world--all this awaited them in the Lands. Maybe more, if certain stories and rumors were to be believed. The current state of their group didn’t exactly alleviate any of Galen’s concerns. Sybyll was the only one at a hundred percent, and she couldn’t do much. Mino seemed fine, and after last night, he was a little more confident in her ability to defend herself, but the way Seira acted around her, especially aggravated as she was now, could come back to bite them. Galen frowned at the manticore’s back. Hadn’t she been injured last night? He could’ve sworn he heard her cry out in pain at least once.

Before he could break into a jog to catch her, he stopped himself. Seira wouldn’t so much as let him ask about her wounds, much less treat them. Mino would be perfect for the job, but that was even less feasible. There was only one alternative.

He called Sybyll up to them.

“Can you check on Seira? I think she was injured last night and I want to make sure she doesn’t have any serious wounds before we head into the Scorched Lands.”

“She is indeed injured. I noticed her wounds yesterday evening. I do not think any are serious, but the sum of her injuries may pose a problem.”

Galen huffed and curled his hands into fists. “Why didn’t she ask to have them treated? Or at least do it herself? I almost want to force her to do it right now!”

Sybyll shook her head and laid a claw on Galen’s shoulder. “She is much too prideful for that. But if it might soothe your worries, Seira is in the least danger--next to me--out of all of us. She can fly away, should serious danger present itself. Elevation also lessens the cognitive dampers of the Scorched Lands.”

“Well, at least she has that, then.” It wasn’t ideal, but Galen would take what he could get. Maybe after they made it to Mallus he could talk her into getting treated.

“I can heal her right up if she ever wants me to!” said Mino.

Galen patted Mino’s head. At least she still kept that enthusiasm. Something told him they’d need it sooner rather than later. “I know. And I think Seira knows, too.” It might be part of the reason she’s so angry. Knowing a slime has the power to help her; being in a position where she actually needs something from someone she hardly even considers a monster.

The journey out of the elevated hills they called mountains went by quickly. The air grew thinker and hotter as they descended, each breath catching in Galen’s throat on the way to his lungs. His tongue wretched more than once at the taste of it, a taste that reminded him of a swamp infested by insect swarms. Occasionally, he’d catch the scent of something much sweeter, but that flavor was fleeting, teasing at him under the swathe of oppressive heat. When they finally hit even ground, the air was so think he feared he might choke on it.

“This is it,” said Seira, paws on her hips. “Keep your wits about you and don’t slow down.”

Galen gaped at the sight. The land was almost entirely flat, scattered shoots of flame licking at the air as far as the eye could see. The fire swayed differently than Galen expected. It wasn’t calm and predictable like the flames of a campfire, but wild and surging, like the ground was holding it captive from the sky. It gushed through the cracks in the ground like water bursting through a leak. In some places, the placement of the raging fire spouts was too dense to so much as consider trekking through, but most were spaced out. The closest gave off enough heat for Galen to feel it press into his skin.

The earth, cracked and dry, had a red tint to it, enough that if Galen stared at it too long, his eyes began to hurt. The hot air from the flames would produce an occasional gust of humid wind, kicking up small clouds of dust. Galen started coughing when one snuck into his mouth.

“How is it so damn humid? I would’ve thought all the flame and dust would make this place dry as a desert,” said Galen before succumbing to another bout of coughs.

“I don’t know, and I don’t care to know. If you have any brains, you’ll stop wondering too much about this place. It’s nothing more than a land to pass through,” said Seira. She pointed to a faintly-glowing pillar a few feet away. “That’s one of the waypoints Cea mentioned. They’ll keep us sane enough for the journey, but only if we stay on the path.” She paused to glare at Galen. “I won’t bother arguing with you if you start going crazy. I’ll just knock you out and carry you.”

He gave a meek nod, then turned to the waypoint, cautiously approaching it with a hand held out. The short pillar, maybe a foot taller than him, stuck out like a sore thumb against the rest of the Scorched Lands. It gave off a constant, cool air, matching the soft blue glow emanating from its surface. Runes and other mysterious markings covered the stone pillar, probably holding in whatever enchantments the mages gave it. Galen knew next to nothing about magic, only that it took many years of research to learn and that humans learned it from monsters. Now that he thought about it, there was one type of monster in particular that was good with magic, but he couldn’t quite recall which species it was.

“I’m going. Keep up if you want to live.”

Galen spun around just in time to see Seira whiz by him. She’d taken off at what for her was a light jog, but with Galen’s shorter stature and weaker muscles, it was more like a restrained run. All the traveling in the recent week had helped Galen get used to pacing himself a bit, but it wasn’t enough to prepare his body for marathon running. Mino extended her legs, becoming taller than Galen and Sybyll both and allowing her to keep pace with a more leisurely stride. She didn’t have much to say about their journey, no hurrah or ecstatic smile, just a calm gaze forward focused somewhere on the horizon. 

That alone started to worry Galen.

The further they got into their trek, the more often Galen found himself wiping sweat out of his eyes, or off his neck, or scratching some part of his arm, or swallowing hard and clearing his throat. It was like the Lands sensed newcomers--intruders--and pushed itself on them. It wasn’t his fatigue that gave him the most trouble at first, but the thickness of the air, like it became more and more dense the deeper they dove into the Lands. A flame spout would occasionally rip from the ground not far off their path, causing Galen’s attention to shoot to it and his stride to break. One time, he almost fell face-first, but Sybyll was there to grab his shoulder and keep him on his feet. He nodded a silent thanks. He didn’t even know she’d been that close. Was she waiting for something like that to happen? Was his fatigue truly so apparent?

Seira seemed to know the way to go, even through whatever path that had once been laid out was now only just visible. At times, Galen would notice a several-foot-wide elevation of earth, sticking out against the rest of the crimson land around them. That must have been their path.

The sun taunted them with how slow it moved across the sky. A layer of clouds, tainted by that dusty red rampant in the Lands, hid the sun most of the time, allowing it’s glow to peek through just often enough for Galen to guess at the time of day. The clouds, while they did the favor of blocking out another source of pounding heat, filled Galen with an uncertain queasiness he would’ve gladly traded for the constant sunlight. At least it would’ve been something natural amongst this graveyard of the repugnant.

As his body began to wear, Galen looked for something to focus on, something to keep his mind off the eerie Lands and his waning constitution. Mino was still staring at the horizon, but after several minutes of trying the same, Galen discovered that wouldn’t work for him. He didn’t dare waste breath on conversation, and his sense of hearing and touch were drowned in the roar of flames and the suffocating grasp of heat. The scent of the Lands left little to be desired, but Galen would catch a sweetness every now and then, one that piqued his curiosity, but he never saw or heard anything new. It would’ve been a nice distraction to investigate, but the pull of the path and his destination were much stronger.

He relied on his eyes to find something amusing or at least jarring enough to keep him focused. The Lands to his left and right never changed in color or flavor, and the flames would twist his stomach with their sight. The only thing he had to stare at ahead of him was Seira. Her braid jiggled back and forth, bouncing with each step of her jog. Her head stayed steady, facing ever-forward. He expected her to turn around and check on him every now and then, but her attention never strayed. It occurred to him they’d run into an odd sort of role reversal from when they’d first started traveling together. Seira had always stayed behind and stared at Galen with such weight he could feel it. Now it was his turn to do the same.

Perhaps she was thinking about their argument, or maybe she was having a hard time just keeping focused like Galen. Her stride swayed mechanically, feet bounding and body shifting in perfect rhythm, no variance from step to step. Watching it made Galen sick. What he wanted to see was a reckless, leisurely pace like he’d seen in the forest back before Fullsburg. He wanted her wrecking a path forward. He wanted to see a flutter of wings or a twitch of her ears when she got excited.

Another wipe across his brow and a shake of his head took his thoughts away from Seira. The Lands were definitely getting to him, and in a much worse way than Cea had lead him to believe. Did she not want to reveal the extent of the influence of the Scorched Lands to ease his mind? Or some other reason? His teeth rattled back and forth as he ran. Such things didn’t matter right now. He could think about it later, when there wasn’t such a cloud in his head.

Somehow, Galen’s body hadn’t yet collapsed. It could’ve been the urgency of the situation, or the desire to not let his friends down, or even simple pride. He didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was that he kept going. Over the many hours of their jogging, waypoints came and went, positioned maybe every few miles, by Galen’s estimate. It was hard to keep track of distance. The worst parts of the journey were the middle of the gaps between waypoints. There, the Lands pulled at Galen’s body and mind considerably more convincingly. 

The sweet scent teased at him once more. This time, it drowned out the scent of dust and humidity completely. It filled his nostrils and wafted right up to his brain, settling in like cotton. Closing his eyes, he took another deep breath, the first smile he’d had that day growing on his face. Such a thing didn’t belong here at all, like an oasis in the middle of a desert. Galen’s mouth hung open and his tongue lolled out like a dog’s would. Maybe he could find whatever it was that made that scent and take it along with him. Anything to keep the stifling presence of the Lands at bay. They had to be close to it now with how strong the smell was.

Lifting up his nose, he tried to locate the origin of the smell. It was hard to make out, but he felt it was stronger to his left. With a grin, he started off toward the curiosity.

Sybyll was having none of it. A claw reached out to grab his shoulder while another came around to slap his cheek. His eyes flew open and his stride broke, slowing to a walk as he found his bearings. Sybyll said nothing, only pointing to the just-visible path he’d wandered off of. Mino and Seira were still running, completely oblivious to Galen’s momentary disappearance. He could only imagine how tough it was for them. Nodding a thanks to Sybyll, he got back on the path and hit the same pace he’d been holding all day. Now, however, it seemed a touch harder to maintain. He had no right to complain, though. Mino and Seira hadn’t been distracted once, yet they had it much worse than him, according to Cea. He was supposed to be looking out for them, both as a friend and the leader of the group. This wasn’t the time to be weak, it was time to set and example.

Bursting forward with a surge of energy, Galen passed Mino by a few strides. He kept his head high and chest out. Mino had lent him so much strength--maybe it was time he returned the favor. He glanced back to shoot her whatever smile he could muster, but on seeing her face, he wasn’t so sure she was still in the same world as him. Her eyes were blank, her legs had shortened since they started their run, and slime kept dripping off her body to be left behind on the ground. A show of enthusiasm wasn’t what she needed, but rather to get out of this place as soon as possible. Swallowing hard, Galen turned to Seira. The manticore may not have had to worry about holding her form, but that didn’t make her any less vulnerable to the other plagues of the Lands. If she was losing her inhibitions as Cea said, trying to match pace with her or even calling her name could set her off. She was less a manticore and more a bear trap ready to snap shut on whatever dared trigger it.

Only after an eternity of running did evening begin its approach. Galen caught a glimpse of the sun through the clouds, sighing to himself when he saw it had since started its descent. He was a wreck. His legs and arms screamed at him for rest. His chest heaved in and out with each strained breath, and sweat had literally soaked every inch of skin and clothing on him. His head felt like a fifty-pound weight merely sitting atop his shoulders on the fulcrum of his neck. His throat begged for water, but the last of it had already been consumed. He could feel cracks on his tongue and a squeezing on his neck every time he swallowed the pathetic amount of saliva his mouth still made. The majority of their journey was over, this was just the home stretch. Their pace had never slowed as far as Galen could tell, which meant Mallus only lied another hour or so out.

The thought still didn’t give him enough confidence to check on Mino or Seira, though. His drooping eyes stayed forward.

The scent came back, stronger this time, and Galen found it that much harder to resist. Not only that, but he noticed Seira slowing her pace. Did she smell it too? Her nose was probably stronger than his; she had to have smelled it. When he tried to figure out why it might be affecting her now, he winced, vision going blurry. The cloud over his thoughts had grown spikes. His brain resisted any command other than ‘run forward’. Seira kept slowing and Galen with her. The aches in his body numbed and the scent filled his nostrils. His legs slowed to a walk on their own, but Galen didn’t even notice. All he could do was stare at Seira blankly. The hisses of fire and waves of heat became nothing more than background noise. A splatter rung out behind him and to his left, but still he kept staring. He didn’t even consider what that sound might have been.

“Galen.”

A voice. He’d heart it before, hadn’t he?

“Galen.”

Who was she talking to? Was Galen his name?

“Something is wrong.”

He didn’t feel particularly concerned with anything. That voice needed to go away and stop bugging him.

“Galen!”

A claw seized his shoulder and jerked him around to face the speaker. Another claw grabbed his other shoulder and shook him so violently the sweat on his face started flying about. He tried swatting at the arms holding him, but his own arms did little more than flounder. He tried telling the person to stop, but all he got out was a grunt. Dizzier and dizzier he became, unable to stop the shaking, until at last it ended on its own. Frowning, he glared at whoever was in front of him, hoping to drive them off, when his world suddenly went sideways. A blow connected with his cheek, knocking him to the ground. Earth and sky became one red haze. Drool sludged out of his mouth onto the ground as he struggled to breathe. Only after swallowing could he gulp in precious air, and each breath made his vision more clear. Eventually he found the strength to close his mouth, clapped lips rubbing up against each other, and sat up.

Sybyll stood before him, holding out a claw.

“Are you back?”

He blinked at her, then her hand, then back to her. “I… think so. I still can’t--“ Cutting off, he grabbed a fistful of his head and squeezed. “Ugh. I can hardly think. What’s going on?”

“Look,” she said, pointing.

“Huh?” His eyes followed her direction, landing on an object aside the road. Half of it was upright, the base of a stone pillar, but the other half was strewn across the ground. Both pieces had strange designs and all over them. Galen’s eyes widened. “A waypoint.”

“Yes. We have no protection from the Lands here. We must hurry forward to the influence of the next before you lose your mind.”

“What about Seira and Mino?”

Sybyll frowned and stepped to the side. Behind her was a red puddle, sloshing back and forth of its own volition. Galen squinted at it, trying to figure out what it meant. He jerked up straight when it hit him.

“Mino!”

Scrambling over to the puddle, he reached out and ran his hand through it, trying to get some sort of response out of her. The slime clung to his skin where he touched it and sucked on his hand, but couldn’t climb any higher than his elbow before sloughing off back into the puddle. He turned back to Sybyll.

“How can I help her? Can we carry her to the next waypoint?” he asked, panting.

“Honestly, I do not believe that to be the problem. The Lands may have taken her enthusiasm, but I believe her will was intact when she collapsed.” Her brow narrowed. “Her dilemma is that of nourishment. She attempted to make the journey on an empty stomach, and in the place where she was weakest, her fatigue finally overcame her.”

“Nourishment? She just needed food?” He turned back to Mino, striking the ground with a fist. “You idiot! Why didn’t you say anything! Starting your journey into the Scorched Lands while you were still starving?? Are you serious?”

The puddle didn’t answer.

Galen bit his lower lip. “If she’s starved, does that mean she needs… well, you-know-what?”

Sybyll nodded.

“Great angels and demons, I don’t know if I can give her that. I’m--“ He broke off, coughing. He hit himself in the chest to clear his lungs, then resumed. “I’m exhausted, and I don’t exactly feel like sex right now. I mean, I’d do it anyways, but I don’t know if I can perform like this.”

“Even in that state, Mino will retain enough of her instincts to know what to do. She is a slime, and once she has a goal, I think your ability or lack thereof will mean little.”

“If you say so.” He tugged at his collar, trying to suffer the heat better, but it hardly helped calm himself down. “If this is what needs to be done, I’ll do it.” Nodding, he punched his fists together, wincing when they connected. Better skip any sort of theatrics. He needed to feed Mino and get out of here as soon as possible. Who knew how long Sybyll’s wake-up call would help.

A rush of awkwardness hit him as he fumbled with his pants and underwear. He wasn’t used to taking them off himself. He also hadn’t had an audience before… though it wasn’t like Sybyll was watching to get off. He wondered if she even could in her state.

His manhood came out limp and unimpressive, heating his face even moreso than it already was. This was a necessity. He had to just do it and get it over with. Scooting forward on his knees, he brought his crotch up to the puddle. It sensed his proximity, leaning toward him and sending out a probing appendage. He swallowed, wiping another handful of sweat off his face. Please just work, he thought. Please, Mino.

A deep, reverberating growl rattled his ears. His entire body froze. Even his lungs stopped mid-breath. As slowly as he dared, he turned his head around, eyes fearing what they might see, the sting of his abundant sweat unaffecting their desire to stay wide open.

Seira glared at him with a heat that dwarfed the Lands’, her body pulsing up and down with each deep breath. Her paws were curled up into fists, her nostrils were flaring, and her teeth showed a wicked snarl of unbridled rage. Saliva fell from the corner of her mouth, but she made no effort to wipe it away.

Her lips moved to utter one distinct, harrowing word.

“Mine.”

He really needed to stop getting himself into these situations.

**Chapter 22**

“There isn’t any chance we could talk this out, is there?”

Another growl. Seira slowly walked toward him.

“Of course there isn’t.”

He honestly couldn’t tell if Seira’s anger was directed at him, for offering himself to Mino, or at Mino, for being a slime. If it was the former, at least he’d be able to protect himself. Mino was in no such state. However, Mino didn’t allow him time to ponder his next move.

The puddle pounced with such ferocity that Galen stumbled backwards. His entire crotch area was instantly undulated in the cool touch of slime. Somehow Mino had kept her body chilled in this burning-hot environment, and the contrast made Galen’s brow shoot upward in surprise. Steam came off his body where Mino touched it. Galen had just enough time to watch the steam rise before Mino started working.

He gasped, trying to claw Mino off. While he had every intention of helping her, now was NOT the time. “C’mon, Mino, not now!”

If she heard him, his pleas meant nothing. A swirl of current enveloped his length, beginning a deliberate pumping motion within the slime. Sybyll wasn’t exaggerating when she said Mino would know what to do. Even as nothing more than a mindless puddle, each of Mino’s stroke sent shivers down Galen’s spine. He almost stopped to bask in her pleasures, but another growl and the stomping feet of a certain manticore brought him back to the present. Galen spun back to Seira.

She was sprinting, now. He had mere seconds.

Mustering all the willpower he had, Galen forced his wearied body to stand, attempting to block out Mino’s caresses at the same time. His fists curled up as tight as they could possibly go and he glared at Seira with a ferocity to match his will. He tossed his pants away, knowing they’d only be a bother half-on, and there was no way Mino would let him pull them back up. Just as he let them go and braced himself, Seira pounced.

Galen attempted to spin out of the way and let Seira’s momentum bounce off of him, but the fatigue of his journey and the constant assault of pleasure on his groin dulled his reflexes. While the mass of her body missed, her paw still caught him square in the chest and sent him rolling along the ground. He let out a grunt, immediately tensing up his chest in reaction to the strike, then shook off the pain as he struggled to his feet. Seira came again with a charge, and this time caught Galen still recovering. An embarrassing yelp of surprise escaped his mouth, the tackle taking the wind out of him. They tumbled over the dusty-red ground, Seira’s paws seizing Galen’s shoulders while her feet’s claws dug into his shins and her tail wrapped them up together.

When they finally came to a halt, Galen somehow found himself on top but still dizzy from the tussle. He shook his head, trying to clear his vision. A thousand different sensations pounded on his brain at once. Mino was still working furiously on his member, Seira’s claws were digging into his skin, that tail kept constricting tighter and tighter, and the sweet scent of the Lands threatened to steal his sanity once more. His eyes flew as wide open as possible and he screamed, still facing Seira.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!”

Seira still fought, Mino still stroked, the Lands still beat down on him and his body still burned for rest, but for a brief moment, Galen’s mind was his own. And that was all he needed.

He broke Seira’s grip by striking her elbows with his forearms. Once her paws were off, he went straight to Toneruth and pulled it free. The blade was hardly a knife, but Galen didn’t need anything more. He plunged the sword into her heart, gritting his teeth as the cold bite of the sword gnawed at his hand. Seira squealed and squirmed in pain and surprise, but her tail still bound them together. Huffing, Galen twisted the blade, wincing a bit in the reaction it caused, but it did the trick. Her tail came off, and Galen was instantly on his feet again, Toneruth held out in front of him.

His conscience just now caught up to him, nagging at him about whether or not that was truly necessary, whether he’d gone to far, and if he’d done all he could to prevent this situation. 

Seira’s threatening growl shut that voice up rather quickly. She pounced forward, paw outstretched, and took a swipe at Galen’s head. He ducked under the blow, then threw all his weight behind a punch to her kidney under the striking arm. His fist gave a satisfying sound as it connected, but he’d thrown too much of himself behind the blow. He stumbled. Seira, however, had no problem taking the punch. The Lands had whipped her into a frenzy, and nothing short of an avalanche would stop her. Spit flying from her mouth, she brought a fist down on Galen’s back. It forced the air from his lungs and sent him face-first into the ground.

Not a breath later, she’d pinned him down, their bodies facing opposite directions. Her upper paws seized his legs and pushed them down while her tail coiled around his face and neck. She shifted the grip on his legs to one paw, allowing the other to swipe at Mino. Slime flew everywhere. Her claws raked into Galen’s skin on his rear, but not nearly as badly as he thought they would. Grunting, he writhed and fought under Seira, but couldn’t throw her off. Unfortunately, he’d also landed with Toneruth underneath him and couldn’t bring it to bear to startle Seira off like last time. Frustration boiled to the surface. He wanted to scream at his own helplessness.

It was then Mino shifted her tactics. Apparently a simple swirling stroke wasn’t getting Galen off fast enough. A dozen simulated tongues began lapping at his shaft while a pair of lips closed on his base and started moving up and down along his length. Galen’s eyes slammed shut. His hips started squirming more viciously, savoring Mino’s touch, while Galen fought to hold his concentration. Pushing Mino out of his head had been hard enough before, but in this position, helpless as he was under Seira, there wasn’t much else to occupy him.

“P-please, Mino…”

At the mention of the slime’s name, Seira’s tail tightened on Galen’s neck. He hacked mid-breath, moving his free hand to her tail and attempting to wretch it off. All his pulling amounted to nothing, however, leaving Seira free to swipe at the slime surrounding his waist, and Mino free to work faster and faster. Mino’s lips seized his member and swallowed with purpose. Her tongues coiled, licked, and caressed every inch of his length. Even as Seira tore more and more of the slime away, the suction and grip Mino held him with intensified. Galen struggled to breathe through Seira’s chocking tail, any thought of escape replaced with a need to release. His hips sought to thrust further into the ravenous slime, however pointless the action might be. As if sensing Galen’s impending climax, Seira roared at the sky and sunk her claws into Galen’s sides.

But he was too far gone.

With a moan twisted by pleasure and pain, Galen erupted into Mino, the orgasm reverberating through his body like a thousand tiny explosions. She eagerly accepted and consumed his seed, moving only faster at feeling his release. He mindlessly thrust again and again, giving up all he could to the wild pleasures. When Mino had drained the last spurt from him, he shivered, his body shutting down at the overstimulation.

Seira hopped off Galen in order to roll him onto his back and expose his manhood where Mino clung tightest. Part of him told him to get up, to defend himself and Mino, but his limbs were as heavy as boulders. All he could do was hope Seira would come to her senses and Mino would be satisfied with what he’d already provided.

He should’ve guessed luck would not be on his side.

Mino had grown considerably despite all the slime Seira had tossed away. Instead of a formless puddle stuck to Galen’s crotch, a body had begun to form. While crude and unstable, Galen could recognize the legs and hips which had ridden him that night in the inn. She was definitely recovering… but that hardly meant she was stopping. The moment her legs formed, they locked around Galen’s waist and her hips began rocking up and down on his still-aching cock. Moaning, he threw his head back, panting as he tried to puzzle his way out of this situation.

The sight served to incite Seira further. Her growl turned into a blood-curling scream and she raised a foot too stomp out Mino. Galen’s eyes widened when he saw the stomp was aimed right at his crotch and fought to roll away, but between his fatigue and Mino’s relentless fucking, he couldn’t muster the strength. He opened his mouth to scream--and was quite surprised to find something yank him out of harm’s way. Seira’s stomp crushed the ground where he’d been a moment before. She looked up to see what had saved Galen at the same time he did.

“I am certain Mino’s body is feeling wonderful, but you will not win any spar by lying down as you were.”

Sybyll stood over Galen, a claw holding the back of his shirt collar, that ever-passive stare on her face. Galen gaped at her. How could he have forgotten she was there? While she couldn’t do much directly in his fight with Seira, that didn’t mean she’d just stand around the whole time. Galen’s shocked visage shattered when a thrust from Mino’s still-forming body electrified his with a rapturous rhythm, throwing his concentration to the wind once more. He’d started thrusting back when Sybyll smacked him out of it and seized his shoulders, dragging him to his feet.

“Do not lose your focus! This is not over yet.”

He nodded. With Mino’s mass collecting, keeping his balance on his feet was growing difficult, especially knowing Seira would try to tackle him again. He planted his feet and faced Seira, using all his willpower to push thoughts of that tight, warming, pulsing pussy ravaging his member out of his mind. Almost like a challenge to Seira, Toneruth came up once again, ready to hold her off once more.

She pounced in a blur. Her first strike, aimed for his head, came so fast he felt the wind scrape his scalp as he ducked. He yelped in surprise at her speed; her frenzy had pushed her beyond what he thought she was capable of. Spit flew out of her mouth on the second strike, aimed for his chest. He couldn’t bring himself to leap back with Mino’s weight wanting to pull him forward, but he was able to lean back far enough to avoid contact. Mino, however, was not so lucky, and the stump that had been her growing chest was swiped off by Seira’s paw. As if finally sensing the danger, two arms burst from Mino’s mass and wrapped around Galen’s neck as if in a hug. Her body pushed into his, still rocking back and forth, and thinned to spread out over his front. She also squeezed harder with her legs, drawing a stifled moan from Galen.

When Seira’s third strike came at him, however, Galen found it somewhat easier to move around. With Mino’s body clinging so tight to him, his center of gravity was closer to what he was used to. He spun backwards out of the way of a slash meant for his left shoulder. A counterattack went for Seira’s kidney, but her wings took her over the strike. While in midair, she sent out a kick that connected with Galen’s face. His head snapped backwards, sending him stumbling. Again, Seira tried to bring him down, but his focus returned just in time for him to dodge out of the way.

Panting, he brought Toneruth back up and prepared for her next attack. His legs weren’t moving as fast as he was used to, and sooner or later, Mino’s ministrations would intensify and break through his mental barriers like last time. Blood trickled down where Seira’s claws had dug into him. Compounded with the sheer speed and volume of Seira’s fighting, he came to one solemn conclusion: he was going to lose, sooner rather than later.

He wracked his mind for alternate solutions, for tricks or tools to use, but the fact of the matter was they were out in the middle of a hostile land, worn and desperate, with each passing minute only worsening the situation. Even if Galen were to defeat Seira, what would become of it? They were about an hour out from the next waystone, assuming they kept the same pace as before, and there was no way Seira would let up while she was still able to walk. Mino might recover after draining Galen, but would she be of sound mind, or would she just keep fucking him until there was nothing left?

Galen’s teeth dug into his cracked lower lip. This was such a stupid place to run into a wall! And for a stupid reason, too! The waypoint was broken? Seriously? Not just that, but if Mino had simply told him she was hungry before they set out, this could’ve been avoided! Blood seeped from his lip as he bit harder. Sybyll was right there, too, but all she could do was watch. Why did it have to be that way? Couldn’t she somehow get the power to touch other people and monsters just for a little while? It wasn’t asking much. This whole situation boiled his blood the more he thought about it.

“Damnit, Seira, I don’t want to fight you!” he screamed, Toneruth shaking in his weak grip.

Her eye flickered a moment, but her hesitation was nothing more than that. Again she came at him--at this time, he didn’t dodge. Or “couldn’t” may have been more accurate. Her shoulder took him full in the chest and brought him down hard. He grunted as pain exploded along his back, but the sensation was quickly overtaken by the thrusting hips still glued to his crotch. With Seira looming over Galen, pressing against the slime spreading across his chest and now developing into a full body, Mino must’ve felt a stronger sense of urgency and reacted. Strong currents flowed up and down his member, making Mino’s thrusts much smoother. She clutched his sensitive cock tighter now, her pussy matching him like a glove. Like before, a pair of lips appeared and closed over his tip before swallowing him whole. The lips moved opposite Mino’s thrusts, ensuring no rest from the torrent of pleasure. Galen moaned, raising his head as his resistance shattered.

Seira snarled and raised her paw high. The look on her face bleed violent intention, a mix of fueled rage and determination. Galen struggled to squirm or roll out of the way, but Mino’s body was now large and heavy enough to pin him in his already exhausted state. There was no escaping the blow… and Galen didn’t know if Seira cared enough to avoid him. She wanted Mino off, the rest didn’t matter. Her muscles tensed. She growled.

And was promptly pummeled to the ground by a shrieking harpy.

Galen gaped at the space Seira had been occupying a second ago. His brain was still trying to catch up with what happened when another surge of pleasure struck his body. Wincing, he closed his eyes and unconsciously thrust into Mino. Her slime dominated his thoughts once again, the constant thrusts driving him to new heights. Breath shot out of his body and he started to pant. He wanted to look over to Seira to see what was happening, but Mino demanded his attention with every move she made. Her legs grew stronger and squeezed around his waist. Her head took shape and the arms hugging his neck pulled his head into her shoulder. With the immediate threat of Seira gone, nothing else mattered. Slime pussy, lips and current swirled, gripped, and stroked him for all he was worth. Wrapping his arms around Mino, he pulled her in even closer, and rammed his cock as deep as it would go into her body. Mino and Galen moaned simultaneously and he lost control.

White-hot bliss exploded through his member as he came. Thick spurts of cum shot into Mino’s starving body and just like before, she coaxed every last drop from him. It was all he could do to cling to her, eyes squinted shut, and ride the orgasm out as long as possible. The fears of the moment melted away to Mino’s eager workings, his hands finding peace clutching her body.

But when he collapsed onto the ground, spent, the heat, the stench, and the horror slammed into him once more. His hand searched around the ground for Toneruth, finding it after a few seconds of blind groping. He was lucky Seira hadn’t knocked it far away when she tackled him. With his muscles worn as they were, he could hardly sit up. Mino’s weight made standing all but impossible. Thankfully, after that last climax, she had stopped riding him. His softening member was still deep in her body, but she no longer groped or gripped it. He attempted a smile, but his face gave nothing more than a twitch. Even the corners of his mouth wouldn’t listen to him.

Seira. His eyes shot up at the thought. He turned to where he’d seen her last, heart rate jumping through the roof despite all he’d been through. The sight told him things had only gotten worse.

Two harpies, not just the one he’d sworn he’d seen, were on top of Seira, one straddling her waist and pinning her legs and tail while the other raked at Seira’s face with her talons. Seira was covering her vitals with her arms, but by the amount of her fur flying about, Galen knew she wouldn’t be lasting long at all.

His legs exploded with energy, but it wasn’t enough to get him up. His face contorted with effort and pain. He struck the ground in frustration, but refused to give up. He’d pushed himself too hard to just quit now.

“Mino! You have to get off me! I can’t get up like this!”

“Hmm?” Her head rose up off his chest.

He sighed in relief. She was acknowledging him now! And replying!

“Get off! Seira needs my help and I can’t help her if I can’t get up!”

“Scary Seira needs help?” She turned to Seira and the harpies, her face animated much like Galen’s had when he saw it. “Oh no!” She looked back to Galen, her eyes faltering. He must’ve looked as bad as he felt. “But you’re in no condi--“

“That doesn’t matter!” He expressed his frustration by attempting to rise again, but this time Mino pushed him back down. When he opened his mouth to protest, Mino put a finger over it.

“Let me help you.”

Galen’s brow furrowed in confusion. Mino didn’t explain herself. Rather, she went straight to action. Her body began losing shape, spreading out over Galen’s body. Her cool touch reached to his ankles, his forearms, and up to his neck, clinging tight to his skin. He shivered when a small tentacle reached up from the goo and placed itself right outside his ear.

“This is how I will help you! Whenever you try to move, I’ll add my strength to it too. That way, you can move above even when tired!”

Galen’s eyes scanned the flowing red slime covering most of his body. He wasn’t exactly sure how Mino could pull this off, but he wasn’t in a position to ask questions. Seira didn’t have that kind of time. Instead, he nodded, tightened his grip on Toneruth, and stood.

His body bounced up as if shocked, making Galen gasp in surprise. He stumbled forward, having a much harder time stopping himself than he expected. Every movement he made was amplified. Each time he tried to pull back on his legs to keep his momentum from running out of control one way, he’d end up stumbling back the other. Only after a few back-and-forths was he able to stabilize himself.

“Any chance you could tone it down a bit?” he asked.

“Sorry! I’m just getting used to it myself. I’ll try,” Mino replied.

While he would’ve loved to test their arrangement out further before the fight, there was no time. Yelling at nothing, he brought the broken Toneruth up and charged at the harpies mauling Seira.

The one holding her tail and legs heard his yell and reacted in time, taking to the air before he could get within striking distance, but the other was too focused on clawing off Seira’s face and didn’t turn until Galen was already upon her. Raising Toneruth above his head, he brought it down with a vicious stab right into her neck, huffing with intensity as the sword buried itself in the harpy’s body. She shrieked, her body dropping to the ground in a spasm. Galen pulled his head back, his ears ringing at the sheer volume of the harpy’s shriek, but before he could cover his ears, he found Mino had already done that for him. The smooth goo massaging his ears melted the pain of the harpy’s voice right away.

“Thanks.”

Mino gave a happy hum in acknowledgement.

Galen looked down at Seira, his eyes softening immediately and his mouth twisting in dread.

“Seira?”

Her body was covered in scratches and cuts. Blood streamed out of a dozen wounds, gushing in some places with her faltering heartbeat. While her chest still moved, it was heaving up and down with effort. That stunning auburn hair that Galen so often found himself watching was splayed out, one braid ruined and the other dark from dirt and blood. Reaching down, he pushed the hair out of her face. Her eyes didn’t react to the touch, closed as if sleeping. Her head slumped off to the side and her tail was still.

Things couldn’t end like this. He couldn’t let it. He still had to tell his dad about his journey, still had a promise to keep with the Kraken. He hadn’t gotten Seira to the monster lord’s castle, hadn’t set things right for the wrongs pushed upon her. He needed to talk to Sybyll, find out what weighed her down so, what invisible burden she carried across her back. Mino shouldn’t have to walk the world and search by herself; she’d been alone long enough. Now it was her turn to be happy, to have friends and companions, even ones as weak as Galen. He couldn’t stop, not for them, not for himself.

A rustling of feathers and the sound of a soft landing came from behind him. He felt the foul air of the Lands grow fetid, the breeze carrying the scent of a familiar mothgirl and harpy. As the smell crawled up his nose and settled in his memory, and fresh emotion rose up within him. One he hadn’t given voice to in a long time.

Rage.

“You know, boy, we really didn’t come here for you or the slime, and we’d much rather avoid unnecessary deaths, especially monsters,” said the mothgirl, stepping forward. “Since we’ve still alive, I’m assuming that was your doing. The Khertaleon would never spare us if it were up to her. We do owe you one, so why don’t you go run along to wherever you were headed and leave her to us?”

Galen closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at the broken manticore beneath him--that wasn’t Seira. Seira wouldn’t let herself get taken by surprise, wouldn’t let a couple of weak harpies defeat her. She wasn’t the kind of manticore that stayed down, no matter what became of her. She needed a little time, that was all. They’d had a long, tiring day and she needed a short rest.

But for the ones who put her in that state…

Galen’s head slowly turned before his body, eyes locking onto the mothgirl. Fire danced within them, one much more fierce and dangerous that the flames that decorated the Lands. His leer boiled with such fire that Galen could feel the heat pulsing throughout his body. He imagined the mothgirl melting before his stare, screaming as his rampant fury ripped her body to shreds. His eyes darted to the harpy. She would fall to his sword. A thousand stinging cuts would bury her where she stood. His teeth chattered between gnashing together and opening to scream in anger. His panting turned into huffing; he wasn’t gasping for air, he was forcing it to feed his lungs. Every muscle burned with enervation, but he tensed them regardless. His hand squeezed Toneruth with an iron grip, one he didn’t even know his fingers had left in them.

“Ooo, what is with those eyes? You look like you still want to fight.” The mothgirl licked her lips, pulling her halberd off her back.

“You’re not touching my friend.” His voice came out so low and rough he was surprised it was his own. His body turned fully to face the mothgirl, his free hand going to Toneruth next to the other. Galen tilted his head down to look up over his brow toward his opponent.

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

“I’m not dead yet.”

**Chapter 23**

The Scorched Lands beat down on the combatants, apathetic to their quarrel. Those fighting pushed back with the weight of their intensity and the volume of their emotion. Without a breeze, the stagnant air felt as thick as molasses. Galen’s hairs curled up at its touch.

The mothman brandished her halberd, taking careful steps toward Galen, her eyes alight with hunger growing more rabid with each second. Just behind her, the uninjured harpy hovered a few feet above ground, poised to strike at a hint of movement from Galen. The sound of her flapping wings were swallowed by the roar of flame from the many spouts around them.

Galen’s breath came out hotter than the air surrounding them. He’d lost all sense of direction but for two things: Seira, the one he needed to protect, the one these monsters had broken, was behind him, and his enemies, the ones he planned to break, were in front. Emotion flowed from his arm and into his weapon. The cold bite he was used to turned hot and Toneruth became heavier in his grip, but at the same time balanced and easier to wield. Any protests his body may have given were drowned in anger, an anger that dripped from every ounce of his being. From his eyes glowed hate. From his stance bled fury. From his intent shone ruin.

There would be no vigor left in his enemies’ bodies, and with their defeat, Seira would be safe.

Until that happened, he would fight. Only death could stop him.

“Umm, Galen, your body feels weird,” said Mino. “I’m not sure I like it.”

Mino continued to massage and hold his body with her own like clothing, doing all she could to soak up his pain and fatigue while feeding strength back into him. He cared not where his energy came from, only that he had it, and that it was enough for his aims. He didn’t bother acknowledging Mino’s concern--there would be time for reflection later.

As the mothman and harpy drew closer and Galen’s fury built, the distinction between where his arms ended and Toneruth began blurred. His grip had grown so tight his hands were numb. Toneruth responded to his movements like it was a part of his body. When his anger pulsed into his hands, Toneruth received it too. When his palms sweat with effort, so did the blade. Galen felt not some broken-off knife blade in his hands, but a sword. A full-length, weighted, razor-sharp sword. Even without looking, he could see the smooth, unbroken blade along one side, while the dull edge ran along the other. He felt Toneruth full and complete, a sword of not steel but will.

And his will was to cut.

As if compelled by some unseen force, Galen pumped more and more emotion as fuel into Toneruth. A hunger grew within it, one to match the feast Galen had prepared. His arms shook with the sheer volume of invisible force passing through them, but Galen paid no heed. He would cut, and to cut, he needed an edge made for cutting.

“Galen…”

Mino may not have even existed at that moment. Her voice was nothing more than a raindrop; Galen’s rage a tsunami. At when it hit shore, it all flowed out of him at once.

Into action.

With a deep roar that could’ve well belonged to a beast, Galen charged. As his feet exploded from the groud, so too did Toneruth, no longer constrained by the physical length of the weapon. From the broken tip extended a glowing red blade, arcs of electricity sparking up and down its length. In Galen’s hands, it felt exactly as he expected a sword to feel: heavy, with a purposeful momentum that carried it straight to its enemy’s heart. The significance of it didn’t register to Galen--he had what he needed, and now he was going to use it.

The mothman and harpy both faltered at seeing the new Toneruth, wings and feet slowing and eyes locked on the weapon. The mothman brought her weapon up to block instead of strike, and the harpy began to loop around behind Galen to surround him. They’d only just recovered when his roar peaked and his sword came down with its first cut. The mothman winced at the connection of their weapons, half-expecting Galen’s to cleave right through her’s, but the halberd held. Grinning, she pushed back against Galen, using her still-fresh body in an attempt to overcome his fatigued one.

Galen’s eyes flickered, and with another pulse of rage sent down his arms into Toneruth, a lick of red lighting shot forth down the halberd and into the mothman. She yelped, pulling the halberd away as fast as she could, and took a step back, out of Galen’s range. When he stepped forward to pursue, she sent a jab at him. Growling in frustration, he held Toneruth out to smack her next attack away, but a quick warning from Sybyll told him to turn around. On instinct, Galen shifted his feet to spin away from the halberd and face his body toward the harpy coming from behind. The second he eyed his target, he sent out a downward slash aimed at the talons coming for him.

Mino covered his ears to protect him from the harpy’s resulting shriek when the sword swiped through one of the harpy’s feet. Toneruth buzzed as it cut, and the smell of burning flesh mixed in with the rest of the Land’s distinctive scent, but just as always, no physical mark appeared where Toneruth struck. Galen snorted and went for another attack, but the harpy was already too high to hit and Sybyll was yelling at him to turn around. Another spin and he caught the mothman’s halberd with Toneruth just in time. The blow glanced off to Galen’s left and he dove forward into the opening. 

Hissing, the mothman sidestepped Galen’s jab, but her glare showed her displeasure at even coming close to the glowing lightning blade. Using her wings, she leapt backwards off the ground and landed well out of Galen’s range. He chased. She had barely enough time to bring the halberd to bear before he began raining down blows, one after another, with a speed born from battle fervor. The attacks hit harder the longer Galen’s assault lasted, even sending shocks of red lightning like before. The mothman desperately tried to leap off the ground and create more space, but her wings could not make that first jump alone, and her feet were in a constant backpedal to keep Galen from hitting flesh.

Seeing her desperation, his eyes narrowed. His teeth gnashed together and he pulled Toneruth back to put every ounce of strength he had behind it. His opponent was before him; nothing else mattered. The blade screamed for blood. Galen’s muscles tensed. His arms swung about, straining to put more and more speed behind the blow. The air around the blade’s edge crackled with energy. Gaping at the sword as it swung, the mothman stepped back, but at the same time jabbed forward with her halberd, knowing a piercing strike would be faster than a swing. She almost smiled when Galen didn’t move to dodge, but a clump of red slime caught the halberd tip and tossed it to the side just before it connected. The mothman gasped as Galen yelled.

His will was to cut.

The blade cut through the halberd’s shaft as if it were jelly. The tip snatched the mothman’s fingertips as well, sucking the strength from her grip and causing her to recoil in pain. Both halves of the halberd clattered to the ground, the cut still sparking from Toneruth’s kiss. The mothman wasted no time. She knew the battle was lost, and spun on her foot to retreat.

Showing her back only fanned the flames of Galen’s anger. He would not let those guilty of threatening his friends escape. Blood and energy pumped into his legs and he pounced forward, his eyes locked onto the mothman’s back where her wings blossomed from her body. And that is where Toneruth found purchase. The sword gave a satisfying sizzle as it sunk into flesh, sending those red-hot arcs of lighting across her body, ripping through her muscles and draining them of all life. Snarling, Galen twisted the blade just to see the mothman twitch in reaction, then pulled it free.

She slumped to the ground, and Galen faced his his final opponent. At least, he intended to, but her talons found his head before he could turn all the way. They dug into his scalp and chin, drawing out gashes as they raked his skin. Galen hissed in pain, seizing the harpy’s leg and tearing it off, mindless of the further damage it caused. His blood rose to boiling and he slashed out in anger, cutting through the leg he held. The harpy spasmed. Squealing and shrieking, she kicked his head, causing him to stumble back and release her. The moment his senses returned to him, Galen had both hands on Toneruth and ran at the harpy. He hungered for his enemy once more. Raw emotion fueled his body beyond the point of reasonable function. He leapt up and took a swing at the harpy, but she was already too high to reach. Giving Galen a taunting hiss, she took to the air and flew out a far distance.

Galen set his feet. She’d be coming back. She’d try to use speed and her aerial agility to get in a quick, vicious strike, then fly past him. But he had no intention of letting her get even one attack off. He drew Toneruth back, over his head, trying to get as much elevation as possible with his next attack. What she managed to land on him didn’t matter--all he wanted to see was his sword cut through her and her limp body on the ground. Nothing else would give him the satisfaction he needed.

The air whistled at the harpy’s approach. She was taking a steep angle, using her dive to build up incredible speed. Her body cut through the air like a knife, growing in Galen’s vision at an alarming rate. His heart thrummed faster. His legs tightened up. His arms burned with purpose. His eyes locked onto the harpy, piercing her as well as any blade. The battle was decided.

Stepping into the swing, Galen brought Toneruth down with all the anger that raged within him. Lightning surged from his hands, from Toneruth, and lashed out at the sky. The harpy had seen Galen’s intention, and veered off to his weak side, away from the blade, but her fate was already sealed. While the glowing red edge of Toneruth never touched her, the lightning bursting forth did. It raveled around the harpy, denying her any escape, and ripped through every inch of her body all at once. Her lungs burned back before she could even scream.

Galen didn’t need to see to know the harpy was defeated. Her body hit the ground with a pleasing thud, sliding a few feet in the dust as if to add to her humiliation.

Finally. Galen let out the longest sigh he’d ever released, his voice raspy and broken even in his brief celebration. The deed was done. His enemies had paid. While he didn’t have the will to smile, he did manage to lose the twisted snarl of fury in favor of dull gape. Groaning, he stood up straight and looked at Toneruth. The red glow had since vanished as if it were never there. All that looked back at Galen was the impromptu dagger from before the fight. He couldn’t muster the concentration to speculate what had happened or why. It wasn’t important right now. He slipped the sword back into its scabbard, and looked around for Seira.

His limbs turned to honey and he collapsed on the spot.

“Woah!” cried out a voice, followed by a scuffling of feet.

Galen had to force his eyelids open to find the source of the voice. Sybyll was crouched over him on one side, and Mino was on the other. It only occurred to him then that Mino was no longer covering him. “W-w-wh…” Galen coughed violently, the words dying in his cracked, dry throat.

“They’re defeated, Galen. You beat them. That’s all you need to worry about. I’ll make sure you’re safe,” said Sybyll, propping his head up.

Mino’s lip quivered and she nodded in agreement.

He opened his mouth, but again nothing came out. How was Seira doing? Was Mino up to the rest of the journey? Would she be able to treat Seira?

“Don’t worry. Rest. Things shall be fine,” said Sybyll.

His mouth ignored him. His eyelids were heavy as mountains, crashing down over his vision as a wave of darkness. Sleep took him bound in worry.

  
“Galen?”

Mumbling, Galen rustled from his sleep. The voice was familiar; he knew who said it even before he opened his eyes.

“Morning, mom,” he said, stretching his arms and yawning.

Sitting on the side of the bed, Galen’s mother smiled down at him. The bed gave way a bit under her weight, making Galen feel as if he were sliding toward her. Around him were the plain yet familiar sights of his room. A modest chest of drawers held his clothing, and a chest beside that was filled with odd items and tools he’d picked up or made over the years. The small frame of a window let in light and the scent of spring above his head. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he tried making out the different smells. He detected lilacs, likely from the field not far off, vegetables from the garden in the back, and a touch of rain, either just past or almost there.

Looking over to the chest of drawers, he spotted a few different carvings, all misshapen in some way. The one of his father had one arm too large and the other too small. Next to it, a squirrel had a too-square tail and a snout that looked more like a beak. The last carving was a half-done sword. Something Galen had picked up in his spare time, but his father stopped him when he found out. ‘Swords are no toys, and their image is not to be trivialized’ he’d told Galen. ‘If you make a sword, you make a sword. Full size, metal, and capable of killing.’

Instead of throwing the carving away, however, he’d told Galen to keep it. Set it out with the others. Galen wasn’t sure why; it looked even worse than the finished ones. 

Someone called from the other room. “Is he up yet?”

“Yes, hun,” Galen’s mom replied.

“Good. I need him to come with me. Have him get dressed right away.”

Galen pleaded silently with his mother to allow him a bit longer to rest, but she shook her head gently.

“You heard your father. Don’t be so mopey. There’s breakfast waiting for you when you’re ready.”

Breakfast? It was a good enough compromise. Throwing the covers off, Galen hopped out of bed and scrambled to get dressed. He’d just begun to pick up the smell of breakfast from the other room and his stomach urged him on. Of course, he also didn’t want his father to come looking for him--he didn’t like asking for something twice. Galen even ended up skipping his morning routine he was so hungry.

He stepped into the dining area just as he was finishing tossing his shirt on… and was subsequently pulled out the front door by his father.

“But, dad, breakfast! I’m starving!”

His father smirked. “You’ll eat after we’re done. Next time you shouldn’t sleep in.”

Sleep in? Galen looked to the sun--it was already getting into the afternoon. His father was right, though that did little to appease Galen’s stomach. He grumbled, but followed after his father in silence.

Their destination ended up being the docks. A cool, salty wind hit Galen as they walked up to the pier his father’s fishing boat was on. Sitting along the pier were four large, full basket of squirming fish. Galen gaped. He hadn’t seen a haul of fish this large since he could remember!

“Wow.”

“Had a good morning on the sea. Just about the whole village will have to eat fish for the next couple of days to finish these off before they go bad!” His father chuckled, laying a hand on Galen’s shoulder. “Now help me take these back to the village center where we can get these distributed.”

Galen clapped his hands together. “Can I cook a couple for lunch?”

“Sure. But you might want to get your mind off of food until we’re at least done with this.”

Galen’s stomach growled and he frowned, putting a hand on it. That might be difficult.

Just as he bent down to pick up the first basket, his father made an off-hand comment.

“What are they doing over there?”

“Huh?” said Galen. He looked to his father finding him looking off to another pier, then turned his attention to the same place his father’s was.

A group of five men were loading up one of the large fishing boats. Galen cocked his head. It wasn’t exactly odd to watch a few fishermen prepare to leave.

“What’s so interesting about them?”

His father ignored the question, instead frowning and holding up a finger to Galen. “Stay here.” With no further explanation, he took off at a brisk walk, his eyes locked on the fishermen.

Plopping down on the pier, Galen rested his head in his hands and watching his father. Was there something wrong with that boat? With what they were doing? Galen was obviously missing something, he just didn’t know what. Nothing to do but wait and see.

“Hey!” said Galen’s father, waving as he approached the men. “That’s an awful lot of supplies for a simple fishing trip. Where are you headed?”

A lot of supplies? Galen squinted, looking at everything the men were loading onto the boat. It was more than he was used to seeing, but it didn’t seem like too much.

“Hoem.” From the way the man didn’t make eye contact with his father, Galen figured something was wrong. “Please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is. We decided this yesterday at the town meeting.”

“Well, sorry for expecting you to have the sense to not go through with it. We’ve tried this once every year since the Kraken showed up. What makes you think this trip is going to be any different? How many boats are we going to lose to this?” Galen’s father gestured to the supplies they’d been loading. “You’re throwing all that away. I don’t think I need to remind you we’re on an island--that means everything we live off of comes from here, and a lot of it isn’t easily replenishable.”

“I know.” By now, all five of the men had stopped and were facing Hoem, a few with their arms crossed.

Galen swallowed.

“Look, I know you mean well,” the man continued, “but all these arguments have been made. With a stronger boat and more men, we have a good chance of making it past the Kraken and getting to the mainland.”

“’Good chance’? Damnit, the Kraken had lived her whole life in the water and we’ve barely gotten to know it! ‘A stronger boat’? You’ve seen what’s happened every time, regardless of who or what we send. The monster has strength beyond what we can account for! I’m not asking that you stop, just don’t put yourself at risk like this! Do what we’ve always done: get a small boat and have someone ready to pick you up when the Kraken shows up. This method is pointlessly wasteful!”

“No. We’ve been stuck like this for seventeen years. Who knows how long this will last? We need to get to the mainland, and we have to try everything within our power. I won’t just sit here.”

Hoem took a step forward. A couple of the men jerked back in response. “Think for a second! Use that head I’ve seen you use so many times before! You’re getting caught up with the spirit of this and doing something stupid! Just because the rest of the town thinks it’s a good idea doesn’t make it the right choice!”

“I’m not arguing with you, Hoem. The decision has been made. We’re going. Please leave us alone.”

The men turned and resumed what they were doing, leaving a huffing Hoem to slam a foot down on the pier before leaving. Galen winced at the sound. While his father walked back, Galen could decide whether or not to watch him or the men loading their boat. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen his father argue with other people from the village; in fact, it was somewhat common. 

When his father returned, his grimace melted into a smile. “Sorry, Galen. I know I shouldn’t fight like that around you. Your mother would smack me upside the head if she heard.” He leaned over and lowered his voice. “Think you can keep a secret?”

Galen nodded, grinning. He didn’t mind his father’s arguments, even if he felt a little awkward afterwards. His curiousity happened to be much stronger than his sense of shame.

“So what was that about? Why don’t you want them leaving?”

Galen’s father shook his head. “Seventeen years of failed attempts and ruined boats. It’s not going to change just because they want it to. They’re letting their hopes distrort their vision of their opponent.” He glanced back over to the men. “I’ve seen enough monsters to know when one’s trouble.”

“Like the adventurers in your stories?” Galen said, perking up.

His father nodded. “Yes, like the adventurers. But in the end, men have the freedom to make mistakes.” Sighing, his head dropped for a moment before raising to look Galen in the eye. “We can only hope they learn from them.”

  
His ears twitched at a familiar noise. Water poured into something nearby, a sound so fresh and present that he felt it leak into his ears and fill his head. He tried looking over to the sound, but his eyelids may as well have been petrified; no amount of effort seemed to move them. His lips were in much the same state. All he had was his voice, and while his lungs filled and emptied with lethargy, he could still manage making noise.

What came out was something between a grunt and a toad’s croak. Had he any pride left, it would’ve embarrassed him to be associated with such a sound.

“Galen?”

The replying voice was familiar. Sybyll. He groaned again in acknowledgement, then felt a claw pick up his hand and poke at his fingers. The tickling touch of Sybyll’s clawtips made him twitch in response.

“Can you hear me?”

His head was stuck fast to whatever it was was lying on. He was lying down, right? Concentrating, he found his center of gravity and checked his orientation. Yeah, definitely lying down. The moment he probed his body, though, a cacophony of aches slammed into him. He sucked in a sharp breath on instinct. His face contorted as he came to terms with his state. Each breath carried tiny spikes into his throat along with a thick air, one he was all too familiar with. This was definitely still the Scorched Lands. At least he knew he was still alive--death would not be causing him this much trouble. Once more, Galen tried lifting his eyelids, and this time found some success.

The claw left his hand, traveling up his arm to rest on his shoulder, the same one with the old injury from Fullsburg. A burning itch lit up where Sybyll touched him.

“Good, you’re awake. It’s been a while. Are you aware of where you are?”

“Uhhh” was all his throat allowed. His eyes focused on Sybyll. Though his surroundings were still a blur, he could make out enough of the lizardman’s stature to identify her. His lips curled upward. Even if she was pretty much invincible as she was, it soothed him to know she was fine.

She squeezed his shoulder. “Take your time. Have a drink.”

Water met his lips, a soft hand helping his jaw open just enough for a precious mouthful of liquid to enter. It tasted wonderful and Galen swallowed instantly, his throat begging for it much more fiercely than his tongue. Again the water came, and again he swallowed until the cup was empty. Parched lips rubbed against each other, finally knowing moisture. Galen couldn’t stop himself from closing his eyes in contentment. Smacking his lips, he found his voice right back where he’d left it.

“Sybyll.” The air was as sand grating his throat as he spoke, and the word came out rough as gravel, but it was still speech.

“Yes, it’s me. Are your eyes working?”

“Sorta.” He had a hundred questions, but the pain of speaking kept his conversation as brief as possible.

“Good.” He heard a sigh. “Mino was quite worried, though I assured her many times you would be fine.”

“Cute.” A fit of coughs forced Galen to pause, each as coarse and painful as a hundred words. His voice probably wouldn’t be back to normal for at least a couple days like this. “And you?”

“I suppose I had moments of concern as well. But your problem was merely fatigue, nothing more.”

“Guess so.” But it wasn’t himself he was worried about. “Seira?”

“Alive, but not well. The cuts were mostly shallow, but a few were bleeding at an alarming rate. Mino was able to keep her alive until we found further aid.”

“Further aid?” They ran into someone in the Scorched Lands?

“Perhaps you should open your eyes more fully. It may help to explain.”

It was like trying to lift a pail full of rocks, but Galen still managed. His eyes opened all the way, letting in a harsh, reddish light. He had to blink several times before he was able to tolerate it, but eventually things came into focus.

Currently, Galen was lying in a plush bed, an ornate wooden footpiece at the end, and neatly-woven white sheets covering his body. The walls were the same color as the strange light that filled the room--the burnt red that had chased them all throughout the Lands. However, they didn’t have the wood or stone patterns he was used to seeing in walls. They were quite smooth, at least they appeared so from a distance. That didn’t make sense, though--that would mean the whole building or at least the walls were cut out of one massive stone. To his left, behind Sybyll, a window cut a view of the outside into the wall. The bleak clouds and whirling dust of the Scorched Lands stared back at Galen, though there was more sunlight to it than he remembered.

The familiar sound of water to his right grabbed his attention. Standing almost as tall as Sybyll, a scantily-dressed woman poured another cup of water for Galen. Her white top covered her upper chest and most of her shoulders, fairly tight against her skin, but nothing else. Her bottom piece was much the same, hiding only what would’ve been indecent to show. Her figure was more modest than most of the women Galen had found himself around recently, defining no clear muscles or curves, but by the way she held herself even in such clothing, Galen assumed she had no issues with confidence.

It was then he noticed the wings.

Much like Seira, this woman had wide, bat-like wings attached to her back, but this woman’s were black on the outside and a deep maroon on the inside, instead of the shade of red Seira had. They currently sat at rest, held out but not extended. Galen caught himself holding his breath and let it out. His eyes automatically went to the woman’s head next. Buired in a plush sea of blonde hair, starting near the back of her head and curling around toward the front were a pair of charcoal-colored horns. Noticing his attention on her, she took her eyes from the cup. They held a mischievous glint, like one would expect from a thief or merchant.

Succubus.

Galen started sweating. As if the heat and the covers weren’t enough. He’d heard plenty about succubi, probably more than any other monster. They were devious maidens of lust, always searching for men, hunger not in their bellies but their nethers. They could captivate you with a glance, or swoop down and snatch you away. Once under their spell, you’d be helpless, prey until they had their fill. All you could do was hope they stopped while life still resided in your body. Galen recalled many tales from his father mentioning succubi, and rarely did they have honorable goals. Maybe they wanted power. Maybe one man was not enough and they wanted several. Maybe you’d caught their eye and they were merely waiting for a chance to strike. Masters of magic, speech, and mind, succubi always got what they wanted.

And there was one right beside him.

Lost in thought, Galen didn’t notice the succubus had lifted the cup to his lips again and was waiting for him to drink. He snapped out of his stare, hand going to the cup automatically and almost spilling it in his imprecise haste. His fingers grazed against the succubus’, earning a fond smile from her as she slowly withdrew her hand, making sure to rub against Galen’s skin as much as possible. Blushing, his eyes gravitated to the cup and locked there even after he’d downed the drink. He hoped she hadn’t added anything to it.

“You’re lucky, dearie. The Scorched Lands are not easy on humans as young as yourself, especially on the road you came in on,” said the succubus, prying the cup from Galen’s frozen hands.

“I-I’m not that young! I had my coming-of-age day weeks ago,” he blurted.

“Whatever you say, dearie.” She lingered on the last word as if she could molest him with mere talk. He certainly didn’t feel any cleaner for it. Setting the cup down, she stood up straight and raised a finger. “I didn’t find anything wrong with you other than an extreme case of exhaustion. I would highly suggest you stay in bed another day or so and continue to drink and eat plenty, but afterwards, you’re fine to continue on doing whatever it is you came out here for. I’ll check on you tonight and see how well you’re doing. Farewell.” With a not-so-subtle wink at Galen, the succubus spun on her heel and strutted out the door, her high-heels echoing against the stone floor. Galen gaped at her backside all the way out.

The moment her rear disappeared, he realized he had quite a few questions. The first hit him like a sack of rocks.

Where the hell was he?

“Sybyll.” He turned to her, trying to sit up straight. His body barely complied and complained with aches at every move. “Where are we? What happened?”

A tiny smirk grew on her face as she leaned over, grabbed Galen’s shoulders and gently pushed him back down onto the bed. “First: you need to stop fidgeting. Your body is strained enough as-is. Once you recognize this, I will explain our current situation.”

Grumbling, Galen let his head flop back down onto the pillow. “Fine, mom. Just tell me what happened.”

“I am not your mother, nor would such a thing be possible.”

“It was sarcasm. Can you please tell me now? I’m about to start fidgeting again, only this time, it’ll be out of my control.”

Sybyll shifted in her seat, back straight as a board and claws resting on her knees. “We are currently in Mallus’ city hospital. Mino and I carried you and Seira here after the battle.”

Galen blinked. “Wait--Mallus? You made it all the way here while I was asleep?”

“You have been asleep for a full day. The journey took Mino and I not even an hour.” She cleared her throat. “We were in a hurry.”

“Wow. It kinda feels like I’ve been sleeping longer.” He clenched his fist to test it. “My body’s sluggish like I’ve been asleep for a week or something.”

“Understandable. That day took a lot out of you.”

“So what happened after you got here? Did they just let you in or were there guards like Fullsburg?”

“There were indeed gates. Such a thing is necessary to keep the crazed monsters of the Lands from roaming the city freely. However, once the guards saw our plight, we were let in shortly and sent straight to the hospital. Mino used a significant amount of energy keeping Seira alive while carrying her, and subsequently collapsed not long after Seira was handed off to the doctor.” She pushed Galen back down when he started sitting up in alarm. “She is fine. Much more well-off than you.”

“How is she handling the, um, effects of the Lands? It’s been a while and I know it gets worse over time.”

“There are enchantments on Mallus that all but eliminate any negative mental or physical effects caused by the Lands. We are safe as long as we linger here.”

Closing his eyes, Galen took several deep breaths. While everything didn’t sound perfect, at least all immediate danger had passed and they made it to their destination. It could’ve been worse. “And how long will Seira be out?”

“The doctors couldn’t say. Her main concern was the blood loss. The cuts were healed rather quickly after she arrived--many of the doctors are capable mages. Replacing the blood, however, will take time and energy. As Seira is a monster, she will need energy from the most obvious source.”

Galen blushed. “So, she needs me to, umm…?”

Sybyll shook her head. “No. There is a supply here. She has been provided for.”

Relief and disappointment struck Galen at the same time. “Good. Kinda convenient that they have a supply of semen. How big is this hospital anyways?”

“Two floors and from my estimate, seven rooms per floor. Rather large.”

“Wow.” He blushed as the next question popped up. “And who was that succubus?”

“One of the doctors. She’s been tending to you more than the others.”

His blush burned redder. “T-tending?”

Sybyll’s voice went flat. “Not like that.”

“Whew. Succubi are kinda scary.”

Sybyll fidgeted in her seat. “Then you may have some difficulty staying here.”

The sweat dripping down his brow became much more apparent. “What do you mean by that?”

“Mallus is a city of succubi, Galen. Almost every resident is one.”

His throat dried out all of a sudden. 

“Oh.”

**Chapter 24**

Mino wasn’t one to pace, but pace she did. It was a weird thing to do--walk in pointless lines or circles, spreading your anxiety to the rest of the room. Why did humans do it? Why was she doing it? Her thumb went into her mouth where she held it. Her eyes kept following the bleak red floor in front of her feet. Galen had been asleep for a little less than a day now, but every time Mino went in his room to sit by him, her stomach stared churning and her head felt like it was filling with air, forcing her out not much longer after she entered. If there was one thing that bugged her more than anything, it was when her body didn’t agree with her head. She wanted to sit by Galen, but the more she sought to, the harder her body fought against it.

So this is what she was reduced to: pacing in the hall outside his room.

Most of her time had been spent wondering why she had such trouble staying in Galen’s room. The rest of it she wondered how he was doing. The doctor kept saying he’d be fine, that it was just exhaustion, but truth be told, it wasn’t the exhaustion she was worried about.

Creaking loud enough to grab her attention, the door to Galen’s room swung open, his succubus doctor stepping out into the hall. Mino took in a quick breath and clamored over to the doctor, her hair tentacles anxiously squirming about.

“Is he okay?”

The succubus looked down at Mino, face business as usual. “Yes. Doing quite well, in fact. He just woke up.”

Clapping her hands together, Mino gave a little hop.

“You seem awfully excited. Why don’t you go in there and greet him?”

Mino’s body instantly slackened. Her hair fell still. “I’m… not sure.”

“You’re a friend of his, right? I’m sure it would help him to see you.”

She snuck in a peek at the door behind the doctor. “I--it might. It’s just…” Just what? Worried that fight had done something to him? Mino shivered. She’d attached herself to Galen and rode along his thoughts during the fight in order to help him win, but what she heard and felt were nothing like what she’d expected. He’d been so scared about cutting and injuring those harpies and that mothman before, but yesterday it was like nothing mattered. Not even his own life.

That didn’t match the Galen she knew at all.

The succubus laid a hand on Mino’s shoulder, causing her a little jump. People and monsters rarely touched her, even for little things like this. No, especially for little things like this.

“Trust me, little one. He wants to see you. Patients in his situation need all the energy they can get, and being around friends truly helps. No need to be shy about it.”

Of course. Of course Galen wanted to see her. He was one of the good ones, right? And ‘good’ meant you liked being with friends. Mino nodded.

“You’re right. I will see him!”

With that, she marched straight through the door, puffing her chest out and taking long, confident steps. She even raised her height a bit. The second her entrance caught Galen’s attention, however, she wanted to melt back down to her usual form. His eyes were baggy, skin a touch paler than usual, and his expression stuck between shock and excitement. They stared at each other for a few moments, Mino not wanting to say anything wrong, and Galen still catching up to the moment. He spoke first.

“Mino! I heard you were okay but it’s great to see it firsthand. Was the journey here hard?”

He DID want to see her! And he was worried about her, too! That didn’t make much sense from where she stood--he was the one still stuck in bed--but it was nice to hear.

“Nope!” She bounced over to his side, taking a seat. “I was more worried about Seira than anything.”

His smiled faltered. “Oh, yeah. I heard about her, too. I hope she’ll be fine.” His eyes broke away from her. “I’m sorry I passed out like that. I left you with a lot to do on your own, and I know the Lands are more harsh to monsters.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. You did a good job, umm, defending us.” Mino offered a smile, but couldn’t stop herself from fidgeting in her seat.

“I know, I just…” He paused, his head sinking into the pillow. “I’m glad everyone made it out okay. But enough about that.” His chest rose and fell. “I can’t remember why Seira said she wanted to come here. Do either of you?”

“Yes,” said Sybyll. “She wanted to find someone who could break the seal on the monster lord’s castle. It would make sense there’s one up to keep strangers out.”

“Hmm.” Galen closed his eyes. “It’s probably not a coincidence that this is a city full of… succubi.” It sound to Mino like the word tasted raw on his tongue. “Why would she need a succubus, specifically? Or succubi?”

“Succubi are known for their mastery of magic. This is the only succubus city in the world, so it follows the greatest mages would be here.”

“Yeah.” Galen rustled in the bed. “I kinda wish I’d known before we got here, though.” He glanced out the window. “So, I guess we should start looking a way to break that seal, huh?”

“What we--“

“I think--“

Sybyll and Mino had both begun talking at once. Mino instantly covered her mouth and shook her head. “I’m sorry, go ahead.”

“I think we were going to say the same thing,” said Sybyll, a small smile growing on her face.

“And what was that?” asked Galen.

“Stay in bed!” They practically shouted at him in-sync.

He shrunk back into the bed as far as he could go, pulling the covers up to his eyes. “Yikes. I just wanted to get a head start.”

Mino leaned back into her seat, her vision blurring. The headache was coming back. Maybe she needed to see a doctor herself. It was odd enough she was getting headaches and stomachaches--those weren’t the kind of aches slimes got. Symptoms almost always manifested in the slime core, not some weird location in the slime’s current form. Now that Galen was awake, though, it would take more than a silly headache to keep her away.

“Galen,” said Sybyll.

“Yeah?” He adjusted himself where he lay, turning to face Sybyll.

Mino’s eyes were drawn to the lizardman’s claws. They were fumbling with each other in a gesture of uneasiness Mino was not used to seeing from her. Mino’s own hands busied themselves in response.

“This is not something you will enjoy hearing, but I would feel as if I was deceiving you if I waited any longer to reveal it.” She closed her eyes a moment, breathing out loud enough for Mino to hear. Galen and Mino both held their breath, as if doing so would somehow soften the blow.

“The mothman and harpy you fought are dead. Toneruth’s strike was fatal for them both.”

Galen opened his mouth, shock paralyzing his lungs until the strength behind the waiting words burst outward. “W-w-what? Dead?” His voice shook like chair missing a leg in an earthquake.

“Yes. It was you who felled them.”

The ‘you’ hit Galen like a rock.

“How? I thought--“ He swallowed. “How?”

Mino reached over, taking Galen’s hand, and squeezed it. Her head throbbed in response, but when Galen didn’t squeeze back, she knew she couldn’t let go.

“When I told you about Toneruth’s power, I did not tell you all the specifics. It was not done out of mistrust, but rather caution. Telling you everything would not only give you undue stress while wielding the blade, but also burden you with knowledge you had no use for. My intention was to tell you rather soon about what more Toneruth could do, but in my caution, I did not adequately prepare for the trials you faced yesterday. For that, I apologize.” She lowered her head. “Before I explain further, do you remember all of what happened yesterday? I know the Scorched Lands can fog the memory.”

“I, uh, yeah, mostly.” A lazy hand ran through his hair. Mino placed her other hand on his shoulder. “I remember being really angry more than anything. I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my entire life. I knew Seira was hurt and I had to stop them--the mothman and the harpies. Now that I think about it, I never got a good look at Toneruth. I was just using it.”

Biting her lower lip, Mino watched Galen’s hand on his head curl into a fist. Even now, some of that fury reverberated through him. Mino felt it like rumbling thunder. The lightning had passed, but it wouldn’t let itself be forgotten so easily.

Her body burned hotter.

“Then I will not need to explain much,” said Sybyll, looking out the window. “In order for the power within Toneruth to be accessable by anyone who might need it, the creators decided that the power must be linked to something common within all men. Knowledge of magic was far too sparce for consideration, and even the ability to read and write were rare enough to rule out incantations or inscriptions. They thought triggering the power with a common task, such as throwing or swinging the sword would work, but that too was put aside as they wanted the blade to be able to be used without tapping into it’s more significant strengths. They did not want a well-meaning novice to accidentally destroy a town during a friendly spar.

“What they decided on was will. Not only would tying the power to will allow the wielder to apply it with discretion, but it would also give the wielder freedom to choose how much of the power to draw. Such a thing was quite complex, but the mages who created the blade were the best of their time. Maybe the best this world has seen.” Sybyll turned back to Galen. “I did not speak of this because I did not see you using Toneruth with the will required to call forth its more potent powers. The Lands provided you with a catalyst to go beyond my expectations, and with both the rage you felt at their attack, and your inherent need to protect your friends, you achieved something I did not anticipate.” She frowned. “Again, I apologize.”

“I… no. I didn’t want to kill them. It wasn’t my will to kill them!” Galen struggled to sit up, ignoring the growing protests from his body. Mino tried to push him back down, but he shrugged her off. “That doesn’t make sense! I never wanted them to die!”

“Galen, you were in the midst of the Lands, unprotected, and under their overwhelming influence. It is possible--no, likely--that the Lands overrode your inhibitions and gave you the drive to kill.” She laid a claw on his leg. “You musn’t blame yourself. You were not wholly in control.”

His fist slammed down on the bed. “I’m not gonna--“ Mino heard his teeth gnashing together. All she wanted to do right now was give him a hug and drain away all that despair that weighed him down. She wanted to do more for him than she did yesterday. A weak whimper escaped her mouth. Why didn’t she stop him back there? She had the ability to.

Galen struck his chest. “The sword was in my hands! I killed them! Me! But… I didn’t want to.” His eyes left Sybyll, dropping to the floor. Tears began welling up within them. “Did I?”

“This was not your fault. The situation was beyond your control. Do not tell yourself something you know not to be true.” Sybyll pressed a claw onto her own chest. “Something I know not to be true.”

“How can you be so sure?”

Had Mino any hair to stand up on her back, it would have gone stiff at those words. The voice that carried them was one she’d never heard from Galen’s mouth before, sharper than a blade and hotter than the soul of flame.

“Galen,” said Mino, “you risked a lot to keep them alive before we even entered the Lands. Despite Seira’s protests and in the face of her anger, you still spared them. How can you think you would turn around and kill them the next day?”

“Because I DID.” His eyes narrowed. “You heard Sybyll. Toneruth responds to will. How could it possibly kill them without me wanting to?”

“It’s not your--“

“No!”

Mino’s mouth clamped shut and she jerked her head back. Her headache was pounding now, almost loud enough to drown out Galen’s voice. With considerable concentration, she pushed it aside.

“I’m… I’m going to need some time alone. To think.” When neither Mino nor Sybyll moved, he added, “Please.”

Could it be he didn’t trust Mino anymore? Didn’t value her judgement? She was holding his entire body yesterday and with him hardly having the energy to stand, she could’ve easily overpowered him, forced him to stop. Trying to even out her frown, she looked into Galen’s eyes.

A storm echoed within them, rolling thunder and seething lightning deep in his pupils. She’d only seen something like that once before. No words would reach him like this, no matter how she might want to try.

Slowly, she stood, nodding silently before turning to the door. Each step that took her further from the bed and closer to the door weighed heavier than the last. Every part of her screamed that this was wrong, but what was she to do? She’d probably just make things worse.

“We will return in a short while,” said Sybyll, right behind Mino. “Please try to get some rest as well. It will help.”

Galen’s silence hurt more than words.

As soon as they were both out in the hallway, the door closed behind them, Mino felt a claw on her shoulder. She turned, looking up to Sybyll.

“You, too, have no blame to bear.”

Mino may have complimented Sybyll on her astuteness had she not so many other things on her mind. “But I was in a position to do something, and I didn’t. I could’ve stopped him and then he wouldn’t be feeling like this.” Her gaze went downward. “He doesn’t deserve to hurt like this.”

Sybyll took a moment, looking back and forth between Mino and the empty hallway they stood in. Her claw then tightened on Mino’s shoulder and urged her forward.

“Come. A walk will do us both good.”

Mino wasn’t so sure about that. Her feet dragged, leaving meandering trails of slime of on the ground, but at least it was still walking. Sybyll kept pace at her side the entire time, tall and upright like the world couldn’t beat her while she was down despite its every attempt. Frowning, Mino kept her eyes off of Sybyll. That composure wasn’t something she had, something she thought she’d ever have.

As they left the hallway, Mino’s headache faded away, bringing back the sounds of the environment she’d been forced to tune out. The wind, carrying dust from outside, scraped across the walls and whistled through the cracks in closed doorways and windows. The clatter of footsteps, some in heels, some bare, some decisively monster, grew and disappeared like fickle winds. What she heard last was her own body, swirling and forming, melting and flowing. Something she forgot to listen to sometimes.

They left the hospital, breaking into the bleak red of the Lands, an open plaza with a few lingering succubi minding their own business. Mino didn’t have much for smell when she didn’t care for it, but she could still taste the dryness, the heat, the thickness of it all. Grand buildings rose left, right and center, all split up by open streets, though the timid bustle of the population didn’t seem to match the constructs’ grandeur. A part of Mino wanted to throw caution and circumstance to the wind and explore each building. Run to the top and leap off the roof, see which one was tallest and what each one was for.

But right now, such things were of little consequence.

Sybyll led her forward, to a faux fountain in the midst of the plaza. Where other fountains would have water, this one had a constantly-flowing sand. It matched the atmosphere, at least. Eyes dragging along the ground the entire way, Mino had to look up when Sybyll stopped. The lizardman gestured to the edge of the fountain where they both sat. Licking her lips, Mino crossed her arms and swayed lightly back and forth. Was she supposed to say something? Talking about the obvious subject didn’t exactly sound appealing at the moment.

“You’ve seen it before.”

“Hmm?” Mino’s attention snapped to Sybyll. “Seen what?”

“What Galen is going through. You’ve seen something like it before.” Sybyll met Mino’s gaze. “I saw it in your eyes, in your posture. You knew words would do little in your position, same as I.”

“I have.” It wasn’t her fondest memory, but she knew it’d be stupid to disregard. “A long time ago. For me, at least. Not really for you.”

“How long?”

Mino took a deep breath before answering. “Twenty-eight years. Two years after I was born.”

“That is awfully young to be experiencing such a thing.”

“Well, slimes mature very quickly. We don’t really have a childhood or anything like other monsters and humans do. Our mothers pass on a lot of the necessary knowledge when we split off. In my case, my mother didn’t even raise me, technically. Just left me on my own.”

Sybyll nodded. “I have heard much about slimes, but nothing so specific from a slime herself. Most was second- or third-hand knowledge.” She laid her hands in her lap. “Was it difficult?”

“I don’t really know. Compared to other slimes, I guess it was normal. I ran into some tricky situations, but I made it out of them.” Mino squirmed in place. Why was talking about this bothering her all of a sudden? She’d been asked about her younger years plenty of times before. Maybe she spent too long on Nox without interacting with other monsters.

“Was your experience like this one of those ‘tricky situations’?”

“Ah, umm, not really.” No, it was a different beast altogether. “It didn’t exactly involve me. Directly, at least.”

“So while your childhood was without your mother, it wasn’t entirely without company.”

“Yeah. I was born on Bhregof, the continent to the west, near the shoreline. I wandered around for a while, feeding where I could, until I came across a village sorta like Galen’s. There were like fifty people living there total, eighteen or so families. Living out in the wilderness like that, they were cautious about monsters, but it seemed slimes were the exception. Maybe they knew my mother, or maybe they were used to slimes since they lived so close to a lake. I never really found out. All I knew was that they accepted me. One family in particularly took me in. A husband, a wife, and a child.” A small smile grew on her face. “A lot of families had two or more kids, so it made sense for a family with only one to look after me. Plus, the wife was beyond her child-bearing years, so the husband had a need I was able to help with, and in return I got my meals. Everyone in the family was happy with the arrangement, though some of the villagers took a little longer to come around to it. It wasn’t exactly normal to take in a monster.”

“This family: what were their names?”

“Theo was the husband, Aelline the wife, and Glem was the child. Just two years old when I met him.” Her feet started swinging back and forth. “Really cute child. I poked his nose all the time, and he never cried around me. I know at his age, I was just being more of a burden to the family, but they didn’t really complain. They really seemed happy to have me around.”

Sybyll remained attentive, nodding occasionally and keeping her eyes on Mino. “I do not mean to press, but why did you go to the village in the first place?”

“Slimes may learn much from their mothers when they split off, but they don’t learn purpose. I knew enough to stay alive and roam freely, but I didn’t have any goals. Just surviving wasn’t enough.” She shrugged. “So I went to the village looking for that.”

“Why seek it from humans?”

Mino shook her head. “I don’t know. That’s what came to me, so I went with it.”

“And the unfortunate event…?”

A frigid chill swelled up inside Mino’s body. She turned away from Sybyll towards the flowing sand in the fountain, watching the waterfall of grains as if it might have some answer for her. Like often else, however, none was offered.

Sybyll straightened out her back. “I’m apologize if I’m prying too far.”

“No, it’s fine. This isn’t the first time I’ve talked about it, and I’ve done so with people and monsters I’ve known for a shorter time than you.” She hummed to herself. “I’d been living in the village for about a year when it happened. Since my arrival, I’d started to help out with lots of tasks, especially the ones harder for humans. Slimes usually aren’t very strong without serious training, but my flexibility came in handy many times. I could help people up to roofs to repair them, help hold building frames in place while someone else fastened them, and once I learned how to make copies of myself, I could make an entire line of Minos for moving rocks, usually out of places where people wanted to dig, or onto the well-used paths to keep them from breaking up in the rain.” She blushed. “Of course, I was always very good at pleasing Theo. I kept him in good spirits, and he kept me full.”

“And Aelline was fine with this? Humans place a high value on physical intimacy.”

“Yeah. She didn’t feel urges any more, and saw what I did as a necessary service. It got Theo to stop asking for something he couldn’t get from her any more. She also liked me, so she didn’t want to see me dry up and die. Like I said, it worked out real nice.” Her smile faltering, Mino talked at the ground. “But after that year, Glem got sick. The entire village was concerned, but Theo and Aelline were outright devastated. No one knew what it was. I knew that slimes could do some healing, but I’d never tried it before and I didn’t want to make things worse. The village doctor couldn’t do anything, though he wasn’t much more than a herbalist with limited knowledge of disease. So Theo decided to take a trip to the nearest city, two days out at a grueling pace. The village offered all they could for him to trade in exchange for a doctor’s services. We all wished him luck and speed, then he left.

“I’d never been so completely helpless before. Never seen others so ruined by their own helplessness. It felt like everything I did was slower, weaker. The rest of the village carried on, trying not to let the sickness affect them, but it did. I know it did.” Mino glanced over. “Some people were scared that their kids would get sick too, and avoided me and my--the family I lived with like we were ghosts come to haunt them.

“As the days passed, Glem got weaker and weaker. His skin went from healthy to pale like something had come and drained the color from him. He cried even when I was around. Two days after Theo had left, Glem died. I knew it from the silence. Aelline herself had never cried throughout the whole ordeal, but when she found Glem not breathing, when the doctor rushed to him, checked him, and then shook his head, it was too much. She didn’t even have Theo there to comfort her. I tried, but anything I did didn’t seem like enough. Aelline just sat there, quiet, the next full two days while Theo was still gone. Didn’t eat or speak. I didn’t either.

“He came back full of hope, but it all rushed out of him in an instant when he saw Aelline. He kneeled down next to Glem’s body, staring, trying to come to terms with it.

“That’s where I saw it. The same thing I saw from Galen. I knew there was nothing I could do. Nothing I could help.” She sighed. “He asked me to leave the village later that day. I didn’t argue.”

The air between them stagnated with silence. The shifting bustle of the rest of the city faded to a dull buzz in Mino’s ears. It’d been a long time since she’d told that story. She’d thought time would make it easier.

“I am sorry,” said Sybyll. “That is a difficult thing to go through, especially for one so new in life.”

“You know what’s kinda funny?” Mino finally raised her head. “I did find what I was looking for. Everyone always said Theo and Aelline were good people. So when Glem died, I had to know what good was. Not just how to define it, but what it meant to be a ‘good person’. Theo and Aelline were nice to me, but they can’t be good.” Her lips curled upward and her cheeks dimpled in an expression that was anything but a smile. “Because I can’t accept that things like that happen to good people.”

**Chapter 25**

Galen stared.

First it was at the ceiling, lying back in his bed as he tried to drift off like the doctor and his companions had told him to. Next was the window, hoping the thinning clouds would offer some mental distraction from his weighing questions. Finally, the door, closed and silent, the only thing that dared to stare back at him. The ripples of wood cared little for his mood, offered no shirking from his anger and distress. Nor did they attempt to give advice or solace. They just stared as if that was all they were ever meant to do, ever cared to do.

Galen relented, slapping a hand to his forehead as he sat up. Trying to sleep like this was hopeless. He could twist and turn, groan and grumble for hours and still not feel any better. He needed answers, not silence.

But who could possibly have them?

Grumbling, he threw off his covers, ignoring his aching body as he swing his feet over the side of the bed. Rest could come later. He pushed up off the bed… and promptly fell back down onto it. His feet refused to take his weight, shivering, shaking, and collapsing at a hint of pressure. He rolled his eyes. Great. He’d need something to help him stand, at least for a little while, and there wasn’t a certain manticore around to help him this time.

His eyes fell on a staff, likely meant for people or monsters in his exact position, resting against a wall on the far side of the room. Completely unreachable from the bed, meaning he’d have to crawl over there to get it. Another frustration, but what was another upon a mountain of them? In a last attempt to at least retain some of his pride, he got on his hands and knees and started to crawl, but he didn’t even make it a few feet before his legs slipped out and he slammed onto his stomach. The air rushed from his lungs in a pathetic grunt. Scowling, Galen pulled himself the rest of the way to the staff.

What would his father say, seeing him on the floor like this, a lonely little killer trying to stand on his own two feet?

‘This is why I told you you weren’t allowed to go.’  
‘You rushed into things without thinking.’  
‘I expected more.’

His fingers slipped from the staff, sending it to the floor with a clatter than rang through his ears. His eyes immediately went to the door, waiting for someone to rush in and see him struggling about, but it seemed that was one annoyance the world would spare him today. He scrambled back to the bed, staff in hand, as quickly as he could. With considerable more grunting and effort, he was able to climb back onto the bed.

Two harpies and a mothman. His first victims. Somewhere out there, their families and companions would be going about their lives, completely unaware to what just happened, until someone gave them the news and it all came crashing down on them at once. That’s assuming, of course, someone ever found their bodies. It was likely their memories would fade into nothing, a day at a time until even their closest ones forgot to be sad.

He’d set out to do something, something he’d brooded over, pondered, and decided on. He’d set out his mission all in preparation of the day he could finally leave Nox, and while things hadn’t been smooth, he’d still kept his goals in-tact. Now one of them had been shattered by a moment of weakness. A surrender to his deeper desires, his instincts. There was enough beyond his control already; he didn’t need to be ruining the few things that were.

His hands crawled up the staff, fingers rubbing up against the coarse wood. They gripped tight and he planted the base of the staff between his feet to keep it from sliding out from underneath him. With a deep breath, he rose from the bed.

His arms and legs shouted in anger at the strain, trying to get him to lie back down, but Galen had had quite enough of that damn bed. Though his legs shook like a boat in a storm and his arms burned like oil in flame, he kept his feet. Slowly but surely, he rose until his knees locked and his head was just below where his hands gripped the staff. He wanted to smile, but all that came out was a scowl of determination. He was up. Even if he hadn’t taken a step, he was up.

Breath coming out in short huffs, he dragged himself up the staff until his back was straight. The staff quivered in his hands, threatening to slip and bring him crashing back down, but his feet held it in place. He wanted to walk out right then and there, but he knew he needed to take it slow or else he’d be right back on the floor where he started. A little bit at a time, he bent his legs until he felt he’d fall back down, then straightened them out. He repeated this process several times, slowly, eating up the minutes, a subtle worry of intrusion growing with each iteration. He couldn’t rush it, but he couldn’t take his time, either. Once he got to the point he was able to squat and stand back up with relative smoothness, he ventured forward with his first step.

The staff almost got away from him the second his foot came off the ground, but his reaction was quick enough to keep it steady. He swallowed, pausing to take a deep breath. Sweaty palms weren’t helping. Silence beckoned him onward, the harsh apathy of the empty room aggravating his ravenous frustration. One step. It was only a few inches, and he wasn’t so much stepping forward as he was dragging his protesting foot along, but it was progress. Two steps. The step was shaky, but his devout grip on the staff kept his body up. Three steps. A little further this time. The door wasn’t so far away any more.

What’d he do to deserve this, anyways? Some gross deficiency of luck? Did he anger someone unintentionally along the way? Was whatever power that ruled over humans toying with him? Shouldn’t the harpies and mothman been grateful he spared them and left him alone?

He grunted, both in annoyance and effort. It’d taken what felt like an hour, but he was finally at the door. Carefully, he reached out for the doorknob and opened it. Unfortunately, the door swung inwards, forcing Galen to scoot back and maneuver around the door before making it into the hallway. Smiling, he looked at the ceiling, finally free from that small, oppressive room

He was spotted at once.

“Do you need help?”

He shifted himself to face the stranger. It was a succubus, of course, the same height as Galen and in the familiar garb of a doctor. Luckily, it wasn’t his doctor--she probably would’ve had no qualms just picking Galen up and tossing him back into his bed. He was about to ask if he looked like he needed help when he realized exactly what he looked like at the moment.

“Umm…” Where was he headed, anyways? Just for a walk? His hands dug into the staff as he pondered, the grain coarse against his palms. “Actually, yes. I came here with a manticore. Do you know where she is?”

“Ah, I do remember seeing a manticore brought in. I can take you to her.” The succubus spun around to lead Galen, but he stopped her.

“Actually, could you just tell me where she is? I can get there on my own.”

“Of course.” The succubus’ glance over Galen’s body suggested she wasn’t so believing of his last statement, but she answered anyways. “Down the hall and to the left. She’s in the last room before the stairs.” She started back off the way she’d been heading earlier, then stopped herself. “Try to be careful.”

“Uh huh.” Galen had already started shuffling down the hall toward Seira’s room. He’d heard enough of doctors for quite a while.

His hobble took him forward at a pace that would have supremely frustrated a younger Galen, but today he was a bit older. Older by trial, perhaps. His feet scraped against the ground in a morose rhythm. It sounded not unlike a dog scratching a door, waiting to be let in, or maybe a craftsman taking fine sandpaper across his work in slow, deliberate strokes. Galen was too focused on his destination to worry about running into his doctor any more.

He couldn’t say why, but he felt his answers might be in that room with Seira. Maybe seeing her alive would be justification for his actions. All he’d known was darkness and weakness in exchange for those deaths. Maybe seeing something good would help.

Galen hit the turn in the hallway. He grit his teeth, a sour frown on his face. A trade-off, huh? Just like his dad had always said the world was like. That thought alone made him want to scream. Screw trade-offs. Screw bending to that world. He wasn’t on this journey to see more of the same, just to watch as everything played out exactly as he’d always been told. The second he got out of this stupid hospital, he’d… well, he’d do something.

Maybe Seira was the key to finding out what.

After a short struggle with the doorknob, Galen made it into the room the doctor had directed him to. It was much like his own, only a bit larger and holding an extra piece of furniture. Off in the corner was a cabinet full of various liquids, most in smaller jars, but some were stored in vials so small he could hardly tell the color of the substance inside. The whole thing was locked up tight. The stuff in there was probably pretty dangerous.

Galen gave it no more attention, instead turning to the bed near the far wall. Just like him when he was first brought to the hospital, Seira was fast asleep, covered to her neck in sheets. Her arms laid atop them, however, quiet and still, those sizable paws and fearsome claws now pacified. Her face was… oddly familiar. Galen swallowed, stopping to take a hand off his staff and wipe something out from under his eye. He knew that look anywhere, even asleep. A curious sort of smile on her lips, peaceful yet yearning. Cheeks smooth but for the smallest wrinkles near her lips. Her eyes somehow still had that inquiring look to them, even if all she was searching was the back of her eyelids. Thinking to herself, maybe?

A gust of air coming from the closing door made Galen jolt. He felt much like an intruder now, but stubbornly refused to leave. Instead, he shambled forward to a chair at Seira’s bedside and plopped down in it with a grunt. His collarbone wasn’t happy with the sudden drop, but right now it was just one voice of annoyance amongst many.

He leaned against the back of the chair, planning on napping until Seira woke, but he didn’t get the chance.

“I’m trying to sleep here.” Her tone put the dusty Lands to shame.

“You’re a--“ Galen stopped himself, shaking his head. He couldn’t bring himself to smile, but his voice wasn’t lacking for smarm. “I’m so terribly sorry for wanting to visit.”

“You smell awful when you’re being sarcastic.” One eye opened and fixed on Galen. “Even the stale air in here was better.”

“Well, while you’re stuck in that bed, you don’t get to choose.” He shifted in his chair. “Glad to see that razor edge of yours hasn’t dulled.”

“Don’t really have a choice with obnoxious kids like you around. Someone needs to pick up the slack when you do something stupid.”

“Ah.” Anything resembling a smile vanished from his face. “I have been having trouble with that lately, haven’t I?”

Seira squinted at him. “Did you finally realize I was right about the harpies and mothman?”

“Umm… I think so. Sorta. Doesn’t really matter.” He turned to look out the window.

Seira groaned, shifting around in the bed to prop her head up further on the pillow. “It’s more difficult than I thought it would be looking up to you when we’re talking,” she grumbled. “Now what do you mean by ‘doesn’t really matter’?”

Galen let out a sigh that in no way did his austerity justice. “They’re dead. They knocked you out and afterwards I… killed them.”

“Don’t be so beaten up about it. You did what you had to.” The words came out lacking the confidence she often had. Her eyes focused on Galen harder.

“I guess I did. Sybyll and Mino said it wasn’t my fault, but I don’t think so.”

“Not your fault? Why, because of what the Lands were doing to our heads?”

“Yeah.” His gaze fell. “I used Toneruth, but it did something different. Sybyll said it responds to will, and that the Lands brought out something in me that made it, well, activate.”

Seira cocked her head. “Activate? So it can actually do magic after all?”

Galen squinted at her. “Of course it can. Why would you ask that?”

She rolled her eyes. “Healthy skepticism, Galen. Yeah, it’s done some interesting things, but I’m not one to believe something unless I see it. Besides, how could we know how much of its power it’s lost over time? It could have just decayed like everything else does.”

“Well, it didn’t. Not a bit. One cut was all it took.” He explained the other details as concise as he could. Mino’s help, what Toneruth turned into, the lightning, and falling unconscious afterwards. Trying to recall everything, he found a strange cloud over his memory, one he hadn’t expected. The flashes of death seemed so clear before… so why was it so vague now?

“I don’t see why you’re so beaten-up over it.” A touch of annoyance entered her voice. “You didn’t have a choice. You weren’t even completely in control. You did what what necessary, even if it meant killing.”

He glanced over at the window. “Yeah. I guess that’s the sort of person I am.”

Seira’s paw twitched, but Galen wasn’t watching. “The sort of--“ She swallowed her words, sealing her lips shut, then fidgeted around in the bed. Galen could tell she was much the same state as him, if not worse. The bandages around her arms and chest didn’t help. But just like Galen, she wasn’t about to let that stop her. With a mixture of grunts and winces, she scooted up the bed so she could sit up against the headboard. Galen reached out to help, but she shot him a glare and he backed off.

“Why don’t you just stay laying down?”

She ignored the question, adjusting herself until her back was flat against the wall. Like this, she was at Galen’s eye level. She covered a cough with a paw before speaking up again.

“Just so I’m clear on this: the waypoint was broken down, so we had no protection from the Lands. I had since been knocked out and was pretty much bleeding to death. That slime was keeping you from falling over. Your anger got away from you, and while you were using Toneruth it did something it’s never done before and in the end was able to kill the harpies and mothman, even though you didn’t realize it? And since that could only happen if you wanted it, you’re afraid you’re some sort of heartless killer now?”

Galen opened his mouth to speak, closed it, considered the explanation again, then said, “Yeah.”

Seira didn’t even hesitate. “You idiot.”

“Wha?”

“I can’t believe you. You stupid, demon-cursed IDIOT!”

“I… I don’t underst--“

“Eeugh, I’m Galen, I don’t understand,” her mocking voice spat as she placed her wrists against her hips and bobbed her head back and forth. “I think I’m mean, I think I like to kill monsters. I’m such a terrible person.”

Galen’s face flushed a deep red. “Seira, mocking me--“

“Shut UP! I think I might scream if I hear your stupid voice say one more word!” she barked. “In all your deep thinking, your self-conflict, your delving into the roots of morality, you didn’t even have the sense to use your own two eyes and look in front of you!”

“I--“

Seira seized his face in one paw to shut him up.

“You didn’t use the other sword!”

Unable to speak, Galen could only squint, one eyebrow slowly lifting in confusion.

“Look at your waist!”

She didn’t wait for him, yanking his gaze down by the paw gripping his face. Galen’s eyes wandered aimlessly. What the heck did she want him to see? His crotch?

“Your swords, idiot.”

Attached to his waist like always were the two swords he’d been carrying around for the journey. Toneruth, which he picked up in Silere, and the plain iron sword he brought with him from Nox. The second hadn’t really been put to use since he found Toneruth as his iron sword just couldn’t match up.

“Now think.” She spat the second word out with such force Galen’s vision spun for a moment. “You have two swords. One broken twice, so short that even a dagger could do a better job, and liable to break off even more. The other, full-length, in good condition, with a blade at least adequately sharp. The ONLY other difference between the two is that one kills when it strikes and the other does not.” She yanked his head back up to meet her eyes. “Do you understand?”

“But Toneruth grew back into--“

“You didn’t know that! I bet you didn’t even realize it WHILE you were using it!”

“W-well,” Galen stammered as he thought back, his eyes anywhere but on Seira, “I g-guess? I don’t see how--“

“Stop distorting the truth just so you hide behind fear!” She finally released his face, throwing him into the back of his chair. “I swear, nothing angers me more than idiots like you! You want to be an inherent killer so you can run from the responsibility of what you did, then you twist your thoughts and perceptions so that’s all you can see. Face the truth! You’re an ignorant, reckless kid who messed up, and now three monsters are dead!” She spat on the floor in front of him. “A killer? My father was a better killer than you, and he had a hard time stepping on insects!”

“It’s just, I don’t, uhh…” Galen’s excuses trailed off. Could she be right? Was he hiding? He never took himself for someone to run away; that’s not how he’d been raised. ‘Face everything with confidence where you have knowledge; enthusiasm where you do not,’ his dad had said. And it’s not like he’d been denying anything. He accepted he killed those monsters and bore the guilt of it. He wasn’t running away, he couldn’t be.

So why did what Seira said make so much sense?

He rested his forehead on the staff he held on to. What made a killer anyway? Was it the act, or a disposition toward it? How much of his will was his yesterday, and how much of it was the Lands? And why had it taken so long for him to start asking these questions? A whimper came out of his mouth as he squinted his eyes shut. He needed his father here. He’d have the answers. Or at least some way for Galen to start looking for them.

“Galen.”

He dragged his face along the staff as he raised it. Seira’s demeanor had since calmed, her grimace since turned into a concerned frown.

“It’s okay to be wrong. Everyone--“ She scrunched her lips together, clearly having a hard time saying something that wasn’t an insult, “Everyone is, sooner or later, and it’s going to happen again. The only real way to mess up is not to learn from it. Don’t--“ She shook her head. “This is something Sybyll would say, not me.” Lowering her head, she covered her face with a paw. “All I’m trying to say is that you should learn from your mistakes and not dwell on them.” She paused. “The latter has gotten me in enough trouble already. I had to learn that the hard way.”

“Do you… do you want to talk about it?” He’d talked plenty about himself, any more whining about his problems would be pathetic.

“Let’s not and say we did.” She slumped back into her pillow, trying to appear smaller.

Galen nodded silently, then stared at the floor. There wasn’t much to say, really. Heat rushed into the space between them, like it’d been waiting for some break in conversation. Maybe the wind from their words had been pushing it away. But while he wasn’t running away from things…

“I want to talk about Mino.”

Seira groaned. “Please. Anything but.”

“I want to know why you hate her so much and why you won’t give her a chance.”

“This is stupid. I already told you why.”

“No, you didn’t. All you said was, ‘She’s a slime’ like that’s some kind of explanation.”

“It is. You just don’t understand.”

Galen bit his lower lip. “Then help me understand. That’s what I’m asking.”

“Look, I can’t spell things out for you if you don’t already see them. I gave her a chance way back before you even knew she was with us, and she blew it. That’s all the proof you should need. Slimes are, and always have been, trouble.” She crossed her arms and turned to the window, as if to say the discussion was over.

Galen knew this would only get harder, but it had to happen sooner or later, and he didn’t see a better time than now. Who knew when he’d muster up the guts to bring this up again. “I think you’re being irrational.”

“Irrational?!” She slammed a paw down on the bed, making Galen jump. “How old are you? Eighteen? Twenty? I’m a hundred and fifteen, don’t try to tell me you understand something I don’t! Try growing up before speaking like you know something!”

Galen did his best to keep his back straight and his eyes forward. Seira would pounce on any weakness. “That doesn’t really address my concern. She was dying and did what she had to survive. I don’t think I need to remind you she’s saved you twice now.”

“Twice?” Her eyes wavered, then darkened. “No, you didn’t. And that doesn’t change the fact that she’s a slime.”

“That argument doesn’t even make sense! ‘She’s bad because she’s a slime and being a slime makes her bad’? Tell me why, Seira. Because after all she’s done for you, the least she deserves is for you to not hate her.”

“She deserves nothing from me but a good kick to the--“

“Seira!”

The room reverberated with the force of Galen’s staff slamming on the ground as he stood up. He immediately regretted the decision, his legs on the verge of collapsing after such a sudden movement. He got the effect he wanted, though. Seria’s words died in her mouth, her eyes widening at Galen.

“I don’t know where you got this hate or why you hold onto it so strongly, but it’s crippling you. You’re a smart manticore, I’ve known that ever since I’ve met you, but clutching to such a… toxic belief when there is a mountain of evidence screaming to the contrary just isn’t smart! There’s not a lick of sense to it! She helped you get out of jail and never asked for anything in return. She kept you alive and carried you here, but hasn’t expected you to even thank her for it. And all this, knowing you have this ridiculous hate for her. Where does it stop, Seira? Where does this lead? Because if you can’t face yourself like you’ve told me to so many times, then what are you supposed to learn? How will you ever really know if you’re making a mistake or not?” His legs wobbled and about fell out from underneath him, but he tightened his grip on his staff and pulled himself back up. Now he sort of understood why Seira was so mad at him earlier. “I… I shouldn’t even be here. Sybyll and Mino and even that doctor of mine will be mad at me for getting out of bed, so I’m going back.” He shambled back toward the door as fast as he could, not knowing if he could back up his argument if Seira called to him. Just before leaving, however, he paused and glanced back at Seira. Her eyes were fixed on him.

“Mino’s my friend. And I want her to be yours, too.”

The grating sound of his shuffling footsteps followed him all the back to his room. And nothing else.

**Chapter 26**

The weight of slumber crushed down upon Galen the moment he made it back to his bed. Exhaustion sapped him of even the ability to keep his eyes open, as much as he would’ve liked to stay awake for Sybyll and Mino’s return. He had a few things to talk to them about after that chat with Seira. Though he had left in a huff, he learned something from her, both in her words and her blindness. But that would have to wait ‘till later, as his body demanded sleep.

It passed quiet and dreamless, like he was riding a wave of thought that never came down until it hit the shore of wakefulness. His eyes snapped open as if they had never closed, but the atmosphere was nothing like the one he remembered before falling asleep. The dry air scraped against the back of his throat as he breathed it in. He had to hack to force the first breath down. Weak moonlight limped in through the window, the constant cloud cover obstructing it from view. An orange glow came from the streets outside, an alien sort of light that didn’t quite match torch or lantern. With a city full of succubi, Galen wouldn’t be surprised if it was magical. He shifted his attention to the rest of the room. His staff had been put back against the far wall by someone, and he was no longer alone. Sybyll was at his left, arms crossed as she watched him, and Mino was at his right, eyes closed and slumped into a strange form that fit her chair perfectly. It was like her back was bent to fit the chair like a puzzle piece. It could’ve been something she did naturally, or she just found it more comfortable. Either way, Galen couldn’t take his eyes off her until Sybyll said his name.

“Are you well?”

For some reason, her usual formality tugged at Galen like a black dot on fabric dyed white. “Yeah. I was really tired, but,” he said as he lifted his arm, curling his hand into a fist and opening it again, “I’m feeling better now.”

“That is good. Did you see Seira while we were gone?”

The question was not asked as an accusation, but it sure felt like one. Galen’s lips twitched back and forth before he answered, “Yes… how did you know?”

“When I returned, there was a walking staff near your bed, and I went to check on Seira not long ago. She was… cranky.”

Galen let a small smile out, but it died quickly. While hearing Sybyll describe Seira as ‘cranky’ was worth a chuckle, he couldn’t bring himself to do so, knowing he was the cause of that crankiness. “Sorry. I think I did that.”

“Whatever caused Seira’s mood is between you and her. And besides, I believe I understand your eagerness to be out of the bed. I have been injured before, and the worst part of it all was the recovery. To be conscious and willing but unable is frustrating, to say the least.”

Galen scooted up a bit, resting back on his elbows to get his upper body off the bed. “When was this?”

“It happened many times during my younger years, some worse than others. As I grew older, I learned how to avoid such things.”

He hadn’t forgotten what Cea had told him right before he left, to delve into Sybyll’s past as much as possible. This was a perfect time to ask more, assuming Sybyll was willing to answer. “Which time was the worst?”

“Ah.” She looked away a moment. Her claw unconsciously covered up her inner thigh, right over than object Cea had told him about. Was he really getting so personal so soon? “Significant internal bleeding, and water in the lungs. I was bedridden for weeks.”

Specific, but vague to what Galen had really been wanting. That’s about what he expected. “That must’ve been terrible. How’d it happen?”

“I was caught in a flooding river.”

Nothing more. This was definitely something she didn’t want to get into. Galen scrunched up his face. Oh well. Best not to push it. Maybe when they were out of this city and in a more comfortable setting. “How long was I asleep?”

“It is not long ‘till dawn, so quite a while. Twelve hours, perhaps?” She looked up and down Galen’s body. “It appears to have done you well.”

“Yeah. And I am ready to get out of this damn bed.”

Just as he threw off the covers, though, the door opened and his doctor stepped in. Galen immediately frowned. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for her help, but rather the way she looked down on him. Her tall, slender frame filled the doorway and her heels clopped against the floor as she entered. Those eyes found Galen right away, accompanied by a small smirk. He felt more like food than anything else. Maybe an animal, too. 

The sound of her entrance woke Mino, who started in her chair, her back snapping back into the normal human shape and her hair tentacles squirming and wiggling about like disturbed snakes. She glanced to the doctor, then to Galen, and wrapped him up in a squeezing hug the moment she saw he was awake. The sudden assault made him squawk in surprise, much to the doctor’s and Sybyll’s amusement. He was only able to pry her off by assuring her he was okay.

“It’s been approximately thirty-six hours since you were admitted here, Galen,” said the doctor, her smug stride taking her to the side of his bed. “And I believe you’ve gotten adequate rest for your injuries, but I need to check on you to make sure before we let you go.” She put her weight on one foot, shifting her stance to somehow appear even more snobbish than before. He suspected it was an effort to show off her curvaceous body--she certainly didn’t lack assets--but all it managed to do for Galen was annoy him. He considered fighting whatever ‘checks’ she wanted to do, but in the end decided against it. He just wanted this over with.

“Please remove your shirt.”

He glared at her, but said nothing, taking off his shirt in a plain and quick manner as possible. He didn’t miss her licking her lips, though.

“Now lay back down and try not to move.”

He plopped back down on the bed, staring at the ceiling, not trusting the succubus enough to close his eyes. Her hands were on him, smooth and slow at first, grazing over his stomach to apply pressure at specific points. They then moved upward, brushing up against his nipples maybe a bit slower than necessary, and checked his upper chest, neck, and sides as well. When she got to his left shoulder, she paused, her eyes narrowing the slightest amount, but she shook her head and removed her touch, much to Galen’s relief.

If she’d lingered any longer, he wasn’t sure if he could control what was below the waist, and he did not want to give her the pleasure of having that effect on him.

“You are fine. I detect no significant physical or magical harm lingering in your body.” She crossed her arms under her breasts, then shifted them upward. Subtlety was out the window at this point. “It’s been my pleasure attending to you. Please do not hesitate to come back to me should you need anything else.” With a wink, she spun on her heel and sauntered out the door, sure to sway her rear as she left.

Yeah, you don’t need to worry about me coming back, though Galen. He hopped out of the bed, smiling as he gave a good, long stretch before diving into his morning routine. He’d missed out on it too many times already, no need to make his luck worse. While in the middle of a sitting stretch, he turned to Sybyll.

“I’m guessing Seira isn’t ready to leave yet.”

“Correct. She may be healing comparatively quickly, but her wounds were much more dire. I would say she’ll be ready to leave later today, at the earliest.”

He nodded. “Then that gives us some time to start looking for what we came here for. We might even find what we need before Seira’s even out.” He got to his feet, rolling his head back and forth. “I’d like to get out of this city as soon as possible.”

“I don’t like it here much, either,” mumbled Mino.

Galen paused. Must be the heat, he figured. Slimes were naturally cool and found mostly near water. It would make sense an arid, burning place like Mallus would bug her. He walked over to where his swords were sitting up against the wall. Right next to the staff he’d used, in fact. A whimsical smile grew on his face when she saw the staff. He picked up his swords, but just as he was about to put them on, he stopped himself. Something had been bugging him for a while, starting back even before they got to Cea and Roy’s house. Slowly, he put his plain sword on the ground then wrapped Toneruth’s belt around his waist. He’d have to be quick about it; he didn’t want Sybyll thinking too hard, just reacting.

In one swift movement, he swooped up the sword and tossed it right at Sybyll, saying, “Catch!”

Mino gasped, but Sybyll’s reaction was much more mechanical. Her claw darted out without a moment’s hesitation, almost as if she’d expected it, her stance hardly even shifting to grab the sword out of the air. Her brow furrowed at Galen, asking why he’d do such a thing, but he never had to explain himself, simply crossing his arms with a smug grin. Mino’s second gasp told him she understood what had just happened, too.

“Ah,” said Sybyll. Her hand holding the sword lowered, her eyes following it as it fell. “I should’ve noticed this sooner. I wonder why I didn’t…” She stared at the sword a moment longer, then offered it to Galen. “Do you wish it back?”

“Nope, I’ve got one. Besides, you’ll need one now that you can actually use one, right?” He put his hands on his hips. “Just try not to kill anyone with it, okay?”

“I will make a concentrated effort to avoid doing so.” She put the sword on, testing how it felt at her waist and adjusting it a few times before nodding in approval. “The weight isn’t quite what I’m used to, but I will be able to adjust. Is that--“

The air was forced out of her lungs when Galen came charging in with a hug, wrapping his arms all the way around her and crushing her lizardman body as thoroughly as he could manage. Sybyll stood, stoic, staring at the top of Galen’s head from her height, blinking a few times before speaking.

“You already gave me a hug, and I can assure you I am content with this change to my state. There is no need to comfort me.”

“But THIS hug is real.”

Sybyll had nothing to say back. 

“You can hug me back this time, you know.”

She exhaled in something between a sigh and a huff, but her arms enveloped Galen all the same, if only for a moment.

Satisfied, Galen released her, stepped back, and nodded, trying to keep his smile from running off with his face. He turned to Mino, finding her a quivering mess, her hands cupped together and touching her lips, legs shaking and hair twirling around whatever part of her body it could reach. His face creased with concern. “Mino?”

“I’m so happy I could melt! No, really, I think my legs are losing form.” She swayed back and forth. “That was so precious.”

“It was an accurate expression of feelings at an appropriate time, nothing more,” said Sybyll, walking straight past Galen and toward the door.

Galen’s face burned red, his hand automatically going to the back of his head. “Heh, well, it just felt like the right thing to do.”

Mino squealed over Galen’s reaction, hopping over to his side. “I’m ready to find what we came here for, now! Let’s go!”

Sybyll held the door open for them as they paraded out the door, mumbling to herself as she closed it behind them.

“I may start to tire of this place myself.”

**

Their destination loomed over them like a mountain, peak reaching toward the sky and blocking even the rising sun from view. It was strewn from rock just like every other building Galen had seen by some mysterious method, likely magical, which made a coherent structure. The surface glinted as if polished, unaffected by the constantly-swirling dust. Splotches of various shades of red peppered the walls, giving them a texture that was almost hypnotizing to behold. Galen swallowed, forcing himself to blink. His eyes just didn’t want to close.

“Woah,” said Galen, his mouth hanging open.

“I know, right? These buildings are incredible!” said Mino, gaping right along with him.

“Such as everything in Mallus, it seems,” added Sybyll, keeping her attention on their surroundings more than the towering structure ahead.

“So this is where we’ll find out how to break a seal, huh?” said Galen, turning back to Sybyll.

“Yes, that is what I was told. This is the mage’s central resource center in Mallus. The hierarchy of mages make themselves available to public need and run operations here. If we cannot find the appropriate resource here, they will be able to direct us to one.”

“I hope we find it here,” said Galen. He crossed his arms. “I don’t want to run around Mallus chasing something blindly.”

“You have eyes, do you not?” asked Sybyll.

“That’s not what--“ He let out an exasperated sigh. Was this the Sybyll he was going to have to deal with now? “Let’s go in.”

They garnered a few looks going inside, Sybyll more than the other two. Succbi were scattered throughout the wide-open lobby that greeted them, some talking, some resting, others merely on their way elsewhere. They all looked business. Galen’s eyes were everywhere, as if the setting were a fading rainbow and he’d only have a moment to treasure it. Massive was the best word for about everything. Arches framed every doorway and colored the ceiling with interlocking designs. At the center of the lobby, they all met at a point, directly above where a counter and idle succubus awaited them.

“It’s all so… big and… weird,” said Galen.

“That is one way to put it,” said Sybyll. “I’ve seen similar architecture in the king’s dwelling, though if memory serves, not quite this impressive.”

“You’ve been to the king’s castle?”

“Twice. But trying to describe it would do it ill. Perhaps you will see it someday.”

“I hope so.” Galen went back to staring at the ceiling. When they finally made it to the counter, Galen almost ran into it he was so absorbed in the scenery. Sybyll had to yank his shoulder back to snap him out of it.

“Sorry,” he said, sheepishly grinning at Sybyll.

The succubus behind the counter spoke up. “Welcome to the Communion of Magic. Do you have a need?”

Galen expected a wink, or a sly smile, or some sort of seductive whisper, but the succubus seemed wholeheartedly interested in helping them find what they needed and nothing more.

“Uh, yeah. We’re trying to find out how to break a powerful seal. Do you guys do that?”

She chuckled. “’We’ do indeed do that, and in a hundred different ways. Do you have any more precise information? There are many types of seals.”

“I, uh…” Maybe coming here without Seira wasn’t the best idea. She knew more about the seal than any of them. “All I know is that it’s on the mons--a castle. And it’s strong.” Best not tell them exactly where the seal is--they were monsters, anyways, so that technically meant they were under the monster lord’s rule. They might not be so interested in helping Galen’s little group overthrow their leader.

“So a localized, immobile barrier seal. Hmm.” The succubus leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms and looking away a moment before sitting back up. “You will want to speak with Ahdria, assuming this seal is truly as strong as you say. She’s two flights up on the south wing.” She pointed in the direction they would need to go. “If I may offer some counsel: you appear to be very new to this, and you’re taking on a significant challenge. Perhaps you will want to reconsider the means by which you achieve your goal?”

Galen’s brow creased. “What do you mean?”

Her face shone an innocent smile. “You’re requesting help taking down a powerful seal to keep unwanted people and monsters out of a castle. How many people or monsters have castles, I wonder? How many of them have the means to place such a seal? It’s none of my business, I know, but I can’t help but think there’s an easier… a less dangerous way to go about your mission?”

“Ah.” He didn’t have anything to say to that; she was absolutely right. But he’d already accepted the consequences of his goals. A reminder like this wasn’t going to stop him. “I know what you mean, but my only path is forward.”

“Of course. I was only offering advice. Good luck.” She gave a friendly wave and shifted her attention back to whatever work she’d been attending before.

The group had gotten out of earshot of the friendly succubus before Sybyll spoke up.

“Are you positive you are ready to face this challenge? It is as the succubus said: this is difficult, and there may be a simpler way.”

“Maybe, but I trust Seira. If there was a simpler way, a better way to do this, she would’ve tried that first.”

“Very well.”

He could tell from her tone that wasn’t all she wanted to say, but she kept the rest to herself. He might have to ask her about it later, maybe when Seira was back on her feet and he could get more out of her about this seal and visiting--well, storming--the monster lord’s castle directly. From Seira’s story, it sounded like the natural way for her to get her place back was to invade the castle, but right now all she had was a lizardman, a young man, and a slime. Medusuub had an insider and a much more considerable force. Looking at numbers alone, this was already doomed to fail. He shook his head. Worry about that stuff later, he thought. Right now he had a task to complete.

The building continued to amaze as he walked through it. Seeing a building with a second floor in Fullsburg was one thing, but this place had four, and this Ahdria’s room was on the third! Mino did even less than Galen to keep her excitement in order, buzzing around the place like a fly trapped in a jar, staring at and touching the walls, leaping up toward the ceiling, shoving her nose on the floor like it might look different from point-blank. 

“Is this how you treat everything new and interesting?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she said with a grin. “But you gotta agree this place is really neat!”

Galen sighed in an attempt to look the mature one, but he couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “Yes, it is. Makes me wonder how they made it--besides just the general ‘magic’ explanation.”

“Yeah. I wish I knew more about magic. Stuff like this is so interesting.”

After a short search, the three found Ahdria’s room. It stood at the end of the hallway with double-doors leading in instead of a single door like all the other rooms. She must’ve been more important than the average succubus. Galen grabbed the doorhandle, took a deep breath, and pulled.

The door didn’t budge.

He narrowed his eyes in confusion and pulled again. Nothing. He tried wiggling the door, assuming it was stuck, but that didn’t help at all. His attempts had almost become fervent when he heard someone call from inside, a dry voice that acknowledged and shrugged off Galen’s presence all at once.

“It’s push, not pull.”

He froze then gradually pushed the door open, very much hoping his blush would blend in with all the red around him. An rustic room greeted him, his eyes automatically going to the ceiling to trace several pillars that contoured to the walls and ceiling in a gentle curve. He spotted the first wood he’d seen in the building, towering bookshelves stuffed with all sorts of tomes. The room actually had stairs leading to another level of bookshelves against the back wall. There wasn’t an empty spot on them. Each book stood up straight, unblemished and orderly, clearly handled with care. A distinctive scent barreled up his nostrils. He guessed it was the smell the pulp of fresh paper, something he’d heard about but was experiencing for the first time just now. Behind the bookshelves, a window spilled natural light into the room, a dusty orange that made the wood seem to glow.

In the center of room a succubus sat behind a circular desk, neat stacks of parchment, scrolls and quills covering most of the desk. The succubus wore glasses with a thin black rim, a design Galen had never seen before, but said as much about her personality as her thin-lipped appraisal of him. Those piercing eyes cut straight through him. Hair almost down to her waist was bundled up in a ponytail behind her, kept tucked between her receded wings. Unlike most of the succubi Galen had seen in Mallus, this one worse more conservative clothing, showing no skin below her neck but for her hands.

He tried meeting eyes with her, but her stare was so cold he feared he might freeze on the spot.

She clicked her tongue against her lips. “What might bring a human boy to me? Don’t tell me you’re another joke present from Artifacts and Enchanting. I told them if they’re going poke fun, they should at least send an older one. I’ve never been into the adolescents.”

“Um, hello to you, too,” said Galen, filing in to allow Sybyll and Mino in as well. The succubus, likely Ahdria, gave them similar inspections, taking her time on Sybyll before turning back to Galen.

“I heard lizardmen didn’t roam this continent any more. Where is she from?”

“She, well, this is, um,” Galen stumbled over his tongue, stuck between an introduction, an explanation, and trying to figure out exactly how much he should keep to himself.

She leaned back in her chair, her brow creasing. “I’m not familiar with ‘she-well-this-is-um’. Are you sure you and I speak the same language?”

“Yes!” It wasn’t much, but he could at least answer that question.

“That is good to know. Now where is she from?”

Sybyll stepped forward, not giving Galen a chance to make a fool of himself again. “I am Sybyll, and I hail from the Green Wastes, north of Fullsburg.”

“I am relieved one of you can speak properly. But the lizardmen have not inhabited that area for nearly four hundred years. Did you not leave with them? How old are you?”

“I did not leave with them, and my age is something I wish to keep to myself. I am old, if that is what you are wondering.” Sybyll matched Adhria stare for stare, glare for glare. Galen could feel the air between them freeze.

“And why are you with this boy?” Ahdria didn’t miss a beat.

“Duty.”

“It seems there is one thing constant over all races and species, then.” Ahdria closed the book she’d been reading and removed her glasses. “Now, I ask again, what might have brought you to me?”

Her attention landed solely on Galen again. He pulled at his collar and did his best to talk without his voice cracking.

“I was wondering if, uhh, you could tell us how to break a seal.”

She leaned forward, placing her elbows on the desk and rested her head atop her clasped hands. “And what sort of seal are you intending to break?”

“A, uhh…” What was it that succubus at the desk had called it?

“Localized immobile barrier seal,” interjected Mino.

“Not interested,” said Ahdria. “Please excuse yourselves from the room.” She went back to her book as if Galen and his companions had never existed.

It took Galen a moment realize she was serious. “Wait! What do you mean, ‘not interested’? We came a long ways to find out how to break a seal, and I’m not giving up just because you’re not interested!”

She didn’t even look up from her book. “Good for you. Your journey has nothing to do with me. Do not put your burdens and hardships on me as though it is my responsibility to set them right. Best of luck in your search.” She was excellent at making abundantly insincere statements.

“Can you at least tell us why you’re not interested?”

“Because people or monsters looking to break such seals are usually thieves or worse. There are no ‘abandoned’ barrier seals such as you seek, which means someone put this seal you wish to break there on purpose, likely to prevent people like you from getting past it. I have no desire to involve myself in such things.” She took a quill, scratched a few things down in the book, and continued reading.

Once again, Galen found himself without an answer. She wasn’t wrong, and explaining their justification likely wouldn’t get her to budge. In fact, it might land them in deeper trouble. “Is there any way we can change your mind?”

“There is always a way to change someone’s mind. In this particular case, however, I highly doubt you have the means to change mine.”

“Just tell me what I need to do.”

She finally looked up from her book. “So eager to please. If only all men were like you.” Her eyes narrowed, considering the offer. “Do you know why I have such a library in my room? Why I work with so many texts?”

“No.” How would he know that?

“The magic of breaking seals is first and foremost one of information. There are thousands of ways create a seal, and the appropriate method of breaking one must match how it was created. That means, in order to be as proficient in the area of magic as I am, one must know these methods and keep up with new ones as they are developed. Most of my time is not spent attending to seals, but rather cataloging and recording.” The quill made a slight click as the sharp point hit the desk when Ahdria set it aside. “Also, I enjoy books.”

Galen nodded, unsure of what sort of reaction she wanted.

“I am not merely the master of seals here, but the head of archiving and cataloging. The Communion of Magic has a specific title for these things of which I do not care for, but those are my duties. Do you wish to change my mind? Offer me something of greater values than my principles. I enjoy the esoteric, the undiscovered, the old and lost. Give me something of such wonder I can fill volumes of its details. A spell, an artifact, a lost city, I care not for the device, just give me something new and unique.” Leaning back in her chair, Ahdria smirked. “I would hope I do not need to tell you how in-depth and exhaustive the libraries here are. I have no hope you might offer me something not already in them.” She pointed behind her to the bookshelves. “This is merely a small sample. The texts I use most often. So, do you have something to offer?”

“Yes.” For once, Galen got to smile back.

Ahdria’s smirk grew as she laughed. “Truly? You’re even more ignorant than I thought. Whatever it is--“

“Toneruth.”

In the enveloping silence, Galen took a moment to thoroughly appreciate the chance to interrupt her and the slowly raising eyebrow on her face.

“I told you when you first entered, if you were a joke from--“

“It’s not a joke. I have it. Right here.”

He would seriously pay to be able to keep cutting her off. Never did he think something so simple give him so much pleasure.

“I’ll decide that. Give it here.” She held out a hand, impatience seeping into her voice.

“Oh, now you want something from me? I thought you weren’t interested a moment ago?”

Her withering response cut right through Galen’s smarm. “I’m not here for pissing contests and petty insults. Show it or leave.”

He rolled his eyes, wishing he could continue, but unwilling to push his luck. He pulled the sword, sheath and all, off his belt and walked up to the desk. “Careful, it burns monsters that touch it.”

She locked eyes with him. “I can stand a little heat.”

He extended Toneruth, but just before he could drop it into Ahdria’s hand, the door burst open. Seira came spilling in, her severe face evaporating into surprise when she saw Galen, then erupting into pure bewilderment after seeing Ahdria. Ahdria had a much more dulled reaction, though the curiously on her face twisting into that cocky smirk Galen had seen just moments before did not give him high hopes as for what was about to happen.

Ahdria withdrew the hand that was about to take Toneruth. A single finger rose, directed at Seira, Ahdria’s dark eyes and frigid gaze following it.

“This makes much more sense with you in the picture, Seira Khertaleon.”

**Chapter 27**

“Excuse me?”

The room had fallen into silence since Seira’s entrance, leaving a very confused Galen looking back between his manticore companion and Ahdria. He hadn’t meant to be rude by blurting out, but there were more pressing things on his mind at the moment.

Seira’s stare led Galen to believe she was just as lost as him, though there was a definite edge to the way she regarded Ahdria. With her past, anyone that recognized her by sight and knew her full name was likely trouble. Heavy breaths filled the room, anxious, zealous, and curious. It took Galen speaking up again to break the long pause.

“Hello?”

“Hmph.” Ahdria stood up and walked in front of her desk, eyes never leaving Seira. “I knew this would happen one day, I just didn’t expect it to take a hundred years.” She glanced over Galen, Sybyll, and Mino. “And with a party such as this.”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” said Galen.

“Shut up. I’m talking with the daughter of the former monster lord.”

Galen scrunched his mouth up, but stayed quiet. He turned to Seira, hoping she might have some explanation, but none was forthcoming. Seira had crossed her arms under her breasts and was glowering at Ahdria.

“I’m sorry, don’t think we’ve met. And I would remember a succubus as obnoxious as you.”

“Hah, obnoxious? You come bursting into my office, demanding favors that would most certainly put me in danger, and I’m the obnoxious one?”

A low growl preceded Seira’s retort. “I haven’t ‘demanded’ a damn thing. All that’s happened is you pointing fingers and talking to me like we know each other.”

“Oh? So you didn’t send your minions here?”

Her second growl was louder. “They aren’t ‘minions’.”

“Then what are they? Soldiers? Servants?”

“Friends.”

Ahdria laid a hand on her cheek. “How the mighty have fallen. Or, I should say, the offspring of the mighty.”

“Are you getting a kick out of this? Because if you’re not, I can provide one.”

“Already resorting to threats? I would’ve thought you’d have more composure than that. I suppose this wouldn’t be the first time someone overestimated you, though.”

Galen could feel the anger coming off of Seira after that last comment. If this kept up, those two soon wouldn’t be using words to fight.

“Alright, who in all the demon realm are you? And how do you know me?” Seira’s paws were bunched up into fists, ready to strike if she didn’t like the answer.

“I am Ahdria. And I was one of the monsters that helped Medusuub take the monster lord’s castle from your mother.”

The following smirk just begged to be punched. And Seira was far too eager to provide.

A hundred and sixty-odd pounds of raw, furious manticore burst into motion, paw rearing back and clenching as hard as Seira’s muscles would allow. She threw her entire body into the punch, a reckless, single-minded attack with just as much emotion as force behind it. Inches from striking Ahdria, however, it bounced off the air, ricocheting with a silent concussion. Seira’s anger turned to surprise as her paw yanked her across the room and into the wall. The sound her body made striking the wall told Galen just how hard she’d hit, but it wasn’t enough to stop her. Seira threw herself forward again, this time with a kick, only to receive a similar treatment. 

From the look on her face, her futility had done nothing to drain her anger. This could very well continue until she was knocked out or completely exhausted, neither of which Galen wanted to see so soon after she’d left the hospital. Ahdria was also their best hope at breaking the monster lord’s seal… though that concern was a far second. Before Seira could strike at Ahdria again, Galen threw himself in front of her, wrapped Seira up in his arms, and pushed back as hard as he could. It wouldn’t hold her off, but it did give him a chance to speak.

“Seira! Stop! This isn’t getting us anywhere and we still need her!”

“We’ll find someone else! This succubitch is going to die!” Seira’s claws latched onto Galen, trying to pry him off, but he stuck fast.

“What if there is no one else? And you’re not even hitting her! Calm down and think for a second!”

“You should listen to your minion, there,” said Ahdria, taunting.

“You slimy whore! You demon-cursed murderer! You filthy semen-sucker! Despicable, wretched alleyway vermin!”

“Well, at least you’re well-versed in insults.”

“Not helping!” Galen shouted back to Ahdria. He could barely keep Seira still for now, and if he couldn’t calm her down, things could only get worse. Luckily, he had help. Two long, muscled arms slipped under Seira’s armpits from behind and yanked her back. Seira’s eyes widened when she looked over her shoulder to see Sybyll’s not-so-passive gaze on her. Even though it was a small frown, it said enough.

“Galen is right. This is not the time for fighting,” said Sybyll.

“You heard her, didn’t you? She killed my family! How am I NOT supposed to fight?”

“By using your head. She obviously hasn’t fought back, nor has she told us she refuses to help. Meaning, whatever happened in the past does not seem so relevant now.” Her eyes narrowed. “What is more important to you, Seira? Attacking her or facing the monster lord? Because you cannot have both.”

“Who says?” Her arms and legs flailed about as she tried to get free, but Sybyll’s position and strength were more than enough to keep her in place. “I didn’t set out to settle for MOST of what I want, I set out for for ALL of it. And that includes revenge!”

“I thought this wasn’t about revenge. You told me as much.”

Seira’s mouth clamped shut.

Galen crossed his arms and leaned in. “What’s she talking about?”

“It--it doesn’t matter. We are not getting help from this succubus and that’s final!”

“I don’t know, it sounds like it matters a lot. Because if it’s going to keep us from getting help, then we might as well have come to Mallus for nothing.”

“We’ll just find someone else!” She turned back to Sybyll. “Let me go! This is stupid!”

Galen nodded. “You’re right. This is pretty stupid. I understand what happened back--“

“No you don’t!!”

Seira’s shout was loud enough to freeze the entire room. She stopped struggling against Sybyll, her eyes now ignited and burning right into Galen’s, her face twisted in a form of abject fury beyond what he’d ever seen. He feared what might come next.

“She killed them, Galen. Every last member of my family. My sisters. My father. My mother. One by one, slaughtered them in a bloody attack born of hate and treachery. The family that gave me direction and purpose, gone in a night. Do you know what that does to monsters? To anyone?” She hardly paused to take a breath. “Of course you don’t, living on that island of isolation and happiness of yours. You don’t know hardship, you don’t know loss, and you know nothing of revenge, so don’t you dare think you can starting talking like you know what ANY of those words mean!” She stretched her neck as far as it would go, trying to shove her face into Galen’s. Her breath was hot enough to make him sweat and it stank of unadulterated rage. “I haven’t lost sight of my goals. I’m not acting irrational or stupid. I know EXACTLY what I want, and that’s her death!”

Galen staggered as if struck. Hardship? Loss? Revenge? Sure he knew what those were. Life on Nox may have been cozy, but it was never easy. They had founded and breathed life into a village on an empty island. They worked for their livelihoods, their safety. And it wasn’t like no one had ever died. Galen had lost friends and friends of friends. Everyone knew everyone else on Nox, and each death hit just as hard as the last. Not only did someone precious leave forever, but the village as a whole felt the loss. Each passing soul was one less fisherman, one less fieldworker, one less person to build a house or fix meals.

“That’s not true,” he said, his frown souring.

“Did I hit a button? C’mon, don’t tell me you truly thought you understood those things before. You’re barely more than a kid, you should know you have more to learn about everything. Now step aside and let the real adults handle their business.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a kid! I know I’m young, but you’re talking like I’ve never experienced those things before. You think my life was easy? You think I never lost someone I cared about? That my happiness always came with ignorance? You’re wrong, Seira. What I had on Nox--“

“What about revenge, then? When has you opponent been anything other than time and nature?”

He looked away. No, he had never knew anything like what she had experienced. His dad had told him all about stories of revenge, of how it twisted you, how it corrupted you. How great people and monsters could be reduced to single-minded villains if revenge took seat in their heart. But Seira wasn’t talking about a story, she was talking about her life. This succubus had been a part of the most ruinous day of her life, and here she was, standing right in front of Seira, almost asking for her to take her revenge. Galen head twitched back in the succubus’ direction. That was odd… she’d told Seira about everything without a hint of resistance. Surely she knew what Seira’s reaction would be? Did she want Seira to attack her?

He threw his thoughts and attention back to Seira. Whatever Ahdria’s purpose may have been, it wasn’t the most important thing at the moment. An odd sort of churning settled in Galen’s stomach, a sick sense of déjà vu. Here he stood again, facing Seira, fighting his precious companion with the brunt of his will. This time, however, it wasn’t just for the sake of the monster she sought to kill. It was for her. He might not know what it meant to seek revenge, to be wronged so cruelly that everything your world was destroyed, but he knew what revenge was and what it did, and that he would do anything to keep it from consuming Seira. That, he could have confidence in.

“You can’t do this,” he said.

“And who gave you the authority to decide that? You can’t rule me,” Seira spat.

“I’m saying this as your friend. You can’t do this.”

“You still don’t understand a thing. Tell me one good reason why I can’t.”

His hands burned red-hot, his body practically quivered, and pins and needles ran up his arms--but his left shoulder gave him no trouble at all. “Because I’m your friend, and the consequences of letting you do this are so much worse than stopping you.”

“Any person or monster who would deny me this can’t be my friend.”

Galen flinched. “Then I’m not. But that won’t make me care about you any less or move my feet even an inch from where they’re planted right now.”

The heat of the Lands was nothing to what Seira directed at him in the next moment. Ire, loathing, despise, and fury, feverous in it’s nature and determined in it’s cause, roared from Seira without a sound and into Galen. His skin burned with it’s intensity, his heart choked under its grasp, but still he did not move. He drowned in a torrent of fire that never gave up until that once-beautiful red spark faded from Seira’s deep crimson eyes.

“Let her go, Sybyll,” said Galen.

Seira dropped from her grasp, her legs barely doing their job of carrying her load when she hit the ground. Her claws scraped against the rock floor as her feet curled up. Heavy steps took her to the door, and silence marked her exit. Galen watched her go, pleading silently for her to understand, but even that was replied to with a void. Was she leaving for good, or simply waiting outside the room? Would they ever talk again? Could she ever forgive him? His legs itched to carry him out that door, beg for forgiveness, tell her never to look at him that way again, but just as he promised, they never moved an inch.

“Well, well. Looks like you’re not her minion after all.”

He spun to Ahdria, his face twisted in such anger he could not describe with words. “Why in all the goddess’ sweet earth did you tell her that?! Why did you taunt her? Who even are you?”

“Confusion. Understandable. Please take a seat, and I’ll explain,” she said, gesturing to the chairs in front of her desk. 

“Are you still planning on helping us? Or is this just going to be a waste of time?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m still interested, but this complication adds another condition to my help, and that is for you to sit and listen.” She pointed to the chairs again, more direct this time.

Galen begrudgingly sat. “This better be worth it.”

“Worth it? I believe you will find this information most helpful.” She chuckled to herself. “I’m going to tell you about the position of monster lord and the one who holds it right now.” She walked slowly around her desk, leaving a single finger to trace the edges as she moved, then sat down behind it and clasped her hands together.

“Medusuub?”

“Indeed. How much has Seira told you about her? Not much, I assume.”

Galen fidgeted in his chair. It had taken quite a while for Seira to come forth with what she knew, so he wasn’t sure about revealing it all to Ahdria, but then again, given Ahdria’s past, she probably knew everything already. “Seira said Medusuub got someone to betray her mother, then killed her family. Not much else.”

“She told me Medusuub was moving toward war with humans,” said Sybyll.

Galen turned to her, hoping for some sort of explanation, but her stare remained forward, on Ahdria.

“She has not told you much at all, then. Or is it she herself does not know much?” Ahdria tapped her cheek with a finger. “Something tells me she is smarter than that. You don’t live thirty years a fugitive by being a fool. But onto my story. How much do you know of monster history?”

“I, uh, well, I don’t know much at all. I heard Suusuub II fell to Toneruth, and Suusuub III died shortly after, then there was chaos for a time which ended with Seira’s mother took power.”

“Though… limited in scope, that is correct. But allow me to expand upon that.” She leaned back in her chair. “I will start at the beginning, when the title of ‘monster lord’ was truly first created. Fourteen hundred years ago, the arachne known as Suusuub united the major races of monsters under a single banner and dove head-first into war with humans. This was many, many years after the Rupture first brought monsters to this world and created the Scorched Lands. Until Suusuub, monsters had roamed and lived as much as they could off the land, nothing more than ferocious, unorganized nomads that used humans for the sole purpose of reproduction.” A thin smile creased her face. “I can’t tell whether or not whoever created the world was a genius or simply cruel to make monsters dependent on humans to propagate.

“There was no love between monsters and humans. Neither understood the other. Monster species segregated themselves and held prejudice against each other, which led to their current-day form of society. Slimes still mostly keep to themselves, roaming the same as ever, though there are some concentrated communities near water. Lamia and lizardmen, as much as they might hate to admit it, are very similar in their habits, setting up villages in the more hospitable areas. They were the first to abandon the nomadic lifestyle, and also the first to see humans as more than breeding tools.” Her stare wandered to a section of the bookcases against the walls. “How funny it is that what started the wars was likely that very realization. No one can say for sure, as pride and slanted history have blurred the truth, but that is what my guess would be. The humans and monsters both found there was value in the other species, so instead of asking nicely, it came to fighting. How odd we act when faced with what we do not understand.

“Suusuub was an arachne, a race not known for their social ability. Arachne communities were very rare; almost all of them instead found a place to make a den and lived there with their families. They were one of the monster species who often kept human males instead of releasing them after obtaining their precious seed, so they were more feared by humans. More tales and rumors were spread about them than most, especially the fearsome ushi-oni. Terrible raping machines, single-mindedly devoted to endless sex and any man to find himself face-to-face with one would surely meet an early death by exhaustion.” Ahdria’s finger began tapping at the desk in a rhythmic pattern. “Most of it exaggeration, of course. Ushi-onis are hardly so simple.” She shrugged. “But I digress.”

“Are you getting to Medusuub any time soon?” asked Galen. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in history, now just didn’t seem like the time to talk about it. He glanced back at the door. There were other important things to worry about.

“Impatient? Don’t worry, I will get to her soon enough. Suusuub did indeed bring humans and monsters to war, but it wasn’t as simple or fast as she expected it to be.” Ahdria leaned forward onto her clasped hands. “You see, at some point after the war began, it ceased to be about taking what value one side saw in the other. It became a fight for survival, a right to live on this planet. It twisted into the horrific thing it ended up being not because monsters wanted to wipe humans from the land, but because they did not want humans to do so to them. Humans held much the same view. The war was not simply Suusuub and her legions against the kings that lived throughout the war, but it was monsters against humans, period.”

“How long did it last?” asked Galen, afraid of the answer.

“Four hundred years. Millions died.”

Galen couldn’t close his mouth. “Millions…”

“Closer to the end of the war, the monsters began to win. Perhaps they learned about humans faster than humans learned about them, or maybe they’d finally learned how best to use their superior physique, but somehow they gained the upper hand. Human cities fell one after another, the monsters spreading across the continent like a merciless flood. Even that process took many years, but when you’ve been fighting for a few hundred, another ten or twenty doesn’t seem like so much.” She raised a finger. “But there was a problem.”

“A problem?”

Sybyll answered the question herself. “Monsters still needed humans to live. If they won the war and truly exterminated humans, they would die out soon after.”

The finger pointed to Sybyll. “Exactly right. And even if the monsters didn’t end up exterminating humans, a victory in the war would raze the human population to such a level that the current monster population would be unsustainable. So something had to change.”

“But didn’t the monsters realize this?” asked Galen.

“To an extent, perhaps. But after so many years of fighting, all they wanted was the end of humans. They had deluded themselves into thinking they could live without them, or at least a limited population of them. Many monsters lived their lives abstaining of humans, declaring they were pure enough a monster to live without them. Of course, most of those monsters died needlessly and ended up proving nothing to no one but their corpses.” She opened a hand to gesture to the room. “Some monsters DID realize the consequences of Suusuub’s army’s actions, however. Specifically the two species that relied on human seed more than any other.” She looked at Galen, waiting for a response.

“Slimes and succubi.”

“Very good. Slimes require semen as sustenance quite regularly, and there are no means of getting around that, though there are some supplements. Succubi are slightly different in that they require sexual energy, but they require a regular diet of it as well, and it must come from humans.” Tossing her hair back, she clicked her tongue on her teeth. “Most succubi enjoy semen to go along with the sexual energy, of course. Those two species of monster saw the approaching catastrophe and united to take action against it.

“They rebelled against Suusuub.”

Galen had to take a moment to make sure he didn’t mishear. “They rebelled? As in, joined the human side?”

“As much as they could. The humans almost refused the helped, so wrapped up in their pride and prejudice. But aside from soldiers, the succubi offered something humans could not resist.” Ahdria’s chest swelled. “Knowledge of magic. Since the origin of monsters, succubi had always been the species most proficient in it, the ones to cultivate it and reap the rewards. I would like to think their mastery of magic was what eventually turned the tide of the war, but there’s never been enough evidence to say for sure.” She glanced at Galen. “They began to train as many humans as were willing and able. Human mages, though most callous and imprecise in their knowledge, sprung up in every battle. Slimes began using their adaptive and unique bodies to strike with tactics the monsters never had to deal with before. The war’s momentum shifted back to the humans.”

“But they didn’t really win in the end, did they? Because there are still a lot of monsters about. A lot even live in human cities,” said Galen.

Ahdria nodded. “Suusuub, in all her strive for power, was not a fool. If the war was so even before and now the humans had the advantage of magic, succubi, and slimes, not to mention the current morale of taking back so much of what they’ve lost, surely she was at a disadvantage. Within time, she would either lose the war or her position as monster lord. Therefore, to avoid such a fate, she began to seek peace.” Ahdria twirled her hand around at the wrist. “All leaders must admit to a certain amount of pride, but Suusuub knew what was happening, and knew she needed to try something drastic. Better the ruler of monsters than the ruler of nothing, yes? I would not have expected such a thing to work, but Suusuub got lucky. The king at the time was King Aegin, and it turned out he was just as eager for peace as she.

“I won’t say the talks were easy, or expedient, but with their interests so aligned, it was only a matter of time. Suusuub was recognized as the official monster lord by the king, and all monsters were placed under her purview. The king was recognized by the monsters as well. There were a legion of other rules and laws put into place, but those are not relevant to us at the moment.” Turning her chair back to face Galen, she grinned. “What is relevant is the token of goodwill put forth at the end of the negotiation. The king’s touch of pride and the monster lord’s concession that indeed, if the war were to continue, it was hers to lose. The two greatest mages and blacksmith in the land were tasked with creating a sword. A weapon meant not to be used, but to prevent such a war from ever happening again.” She pointed down to Galen’s waist. “The very sword on your hip right now.”

Galen stared at Toneruth, his hand gently moving to rest on the hilt. He became conscious of its weight on his hip, how the sword settled and how it’s collective past soaked through the blade into the sheath like water would a rag. His hand grazed across the hilt, it’s patterns coarse against the hundreds of tiny ridges on his fingers. History was so much more than stories.

“How old is it?” he asked, still staring at Toneruth.

“Exactly? Who knows. It was commissioned at the signing of the peace treaty, but who’s to say when it was finished? My guess would be about a thousand years old.”

“Huh.”

Eyes narrowing, Ahdria regarded Galen with apprehension. “I will take that as you being overwhelmed rather than simple-minded. Because I am not telling you all of this for mere amusement.”

Galen’s head snapped back up. “Hey, yeah, you’re right. You haven’t even mentioned Medusuub yet.”

“And that is right where my talk leads next. Medusuub was born in a farming village south of the human capitol, just far enough away to avoid the bustle, the crime, and all the other ugly things that come with a human settlement of size, but close enough for easy trade. She never said much or her early life, but I imagine she must have enjoyed it to be so bitter about what changed.

“The village’s location turned out to be it’s downfall. You see, while they did avoid most thieves and filth coming from the capitol, they also avoid its protection. A band of medusa came down upon that village and utterly destroyed it, raping or kidnapping the men, killing or turning the women. Why they did so, Medusuub never told me. Perhaps they needed the men and didn’t want to deal with the complications of families. Maybe they were angry at humans for some reason, or maybe they were just restless.” She shrugged. “What is important is the consequence.”

“Wait. Are you telling me Medusuub was born a human?” said Galen.

“I am. Not so many monsters know that. I doubt even Seira does. She told only the monsters she considered closest.” Ahdria’s attention drifted to the ceiling, as if entertaining a passing fancy. “Or perhaps the monsters she wished to consider themselves closest to her.”

“If she was born a human, and monsters killed her village… why would she want to become a monster lord? That doesn’t make sense.”

“People and monsters don’t make sense. I’d like to tell you I know why, but my explanation would only be speculation. That was, of course, my first question upon hearing the truth from her, but she offered nothing beyond, ‘Because I know best’. Hmph. Everyone thinks they know best, especially those in charge.”

“If you didn’t think she did, then why did you follow her?”

Ahdria shot Galen a flat stare. “I told you I would talk about Medusuub, not myself.”

He put up his hands. “Alright, alright. But I still don’t know why you want to tell me all of this. It doesn’t change the fact that Medusuub is trying to start a war again, or that Seira wants to take the title of monster lord back from her.”

“No, but it does give the situation context. I tell you this not because Medusuub must be defeated, but because she must be defeated by the right person.” Her eyes glinted as they sharpened. “This chaos surrounding the title of monster lord only serves to weaken it, and with it the integrity of everything that was bought with those four hundred years of war. If that Khertaleon is to become monster lord, she must do so with confidence and the right backing. Taking the throne on namesake and revenge alone will be worse than what we have now. I wish I could tell you more about Medusuub and her motivations, but she was never much for sharing those. So I’ve given you what I can, instead.

“It is up to you and Seira to learn from it.”

**Chapter 28**

If anger were given wings and a tail, it would have been named Seira.

“What in all the demon realms does that kid know?! What give him the right to stand in front of me?”

She shouted at the open air, flapping her wings furiously to fly higher and higher. Even the tallest peaks of Mallus’ skyline receded, the entire world a bleak, dry red beneath her. Why did Galen keep standing in her way? Didn’t he call himself her friend? Her teeth clicked as they gnashed together, the biting wind chilling her saliva when her lips parted. When she’d asked him to stand up for his ridiculous ideals, this wasn’t what she meant. There were things that needed to be set right before she could become monster lord, and killing that damned succubus was one of them.

Just thinking about him made her want to punch his stupid face. Every word that came out of his mouth sounded more like a whine than a statement. That’s all he did, wasn’t it? Whine about how the world wasn’t just like he wanted, how things weren’t going how they were SUPPOSED to. He knew something of life, which gave him the idea he knew something about death. Every time Seira tried to show him his ignorance, however, something would get twisted or fogged along the way. She should’ve seen something like this coming; that’s one of the reasons why she’d almost left him behind before they made it to Silere. He was just too young to see the truth.

Killing the succubus would be much more complicated now. She’d have to wait until they’d gotten everything they needed and were about to leave, but she couldn’t exactly control when that was or where the succubus would be when that time came. She didn’t exactly want to become a fugitive in Mallus, especially if she was supposed to be ruling over the place soon. Succubus law had always been something the whores had kept to themselves; there may be some sort of exception or loophole she could use, but she had no idea how to research such a thing. Planning would have to come later. It was hard enough to concentrate with Galen’s imbecilic face popping up in front of her every few seconds.

Oh, sweet spirits how she wanted to punch it.

Sybyll helping Galen so directly came as a surprise to Seira. The lizardman had stood back and let things play out up until that moment. She’d been a hard one to read, but as long as she didn’t interfere, Seira hadn’t been one to care. Now she was interfering and Seira couldn’t tell what changed. Obviously, Sybyll had the physical capacity to touch others now, but back there, she’d acted as if Galen was so… right. Was it that she was just a slave to Galen’s whims? Did her connection to Toneruth make her vulnerable to suggestion from Galen? Seira had thought Sybyll was a more clever and analytical monster than that. It would be a pity if she’d become nothing more than Galen’s tool.

At least that slime hadn’t moved or said anything.

A fresh roar came from Seira’s throat as she soared higher. That vile slime! Just thinking about her made Seira’s blood boil! She’d poisoned Galen’s mind. There was no way she wasn’t blameless for this whole ordeal. No matter how much Seira might’ve warned Galen, told him to dump the slime, said it’d be nothing but trouble, he’d ignored her and now was dealing with the consequences. On top of it all, he wanted Seira to make friends with that thing. It was like his ignorance had made him outright blind! Was Seira the only one with her head on straight any more?

Seira cut her climb and evened out into a glide, letting her arms hang loose and stared at the city below. Never should’ve come here. There were assuredly mages in Uuluth and they were headed there anyways. If Galen somehow persuaded Posiden to end her restriction on ships from Nox, maybe they could’ve negotiated for help from her. Surely she would know many capable mages. Seira frowned. Mallus may have sounded like a good choice, but had she given even an ounce more of thought, she would’ve figured out what terrible idea it was. Why couldn’t she predict these things? She was supposed to be the daughter of Vessuub Khertaleon--the mastermind who could see timelines like thread woven from each individual monster coming together in a coherent tapestry. Such an easily-avoidable failure would only disappoint her parents. Well, her mother, at least. Her father would probably have rubbed her head, tickled her ears and tried to cheer her up with unrelated humor.

Seira’s rigid frown cracked. She should’ve asked her mother why she picked her father. Where they met. How a person and a monster with such different personalities could work together like them. She’d asked her father once, but he’d just answered, “Cause that’s the way things work out!” with a laugh. He was kind, but never good for anything serious or deep. She almost wanted to smack him for being so negligent raising her on those things. It wasn’t like she hated her father; he was joyful and silly and a pleasure to be around, but she sometimes got the feeling he never took things at their weight. The only time she really saw him grim was that final night, when he told her to run, promised he’d save her mother… then disappeared. 

Whatever. It was useless bemoaning things she couldn’t have. Her parents were gone and wouldn’t be offering neither advice nor rebuke for Seira’s choices now. The most she could do was honor their memory.

Seira’s glide took her back down into Mallus. She picked out one of the higher roofs and dove in, the air around her exploding with activity when she opened her wings to stop just before landing. The heat coming off the rough stone surprised her paws, but after the initial shock, it actually felt quite soothing. Her claws gripped tight, digging every detail of the stone into her paw pads. A bell tower stood directly before her, perhaps some measure for the time of day or meant for announcements. It didn’t matter either way, to Seira it was something to rest her back against. She turned around and plopped herself down, letting one leg slide down each of the opposing slopes on the roof.

Leaning her head back against the bell tower, she took her time releasing a sigh, deflating her chest and spilling her breath into the dry air as if she might whisper her mood to it.

It’d been a long time since she’d brought up what happened back then, either with herself or someone else. Her mother had been reduced to a name, one that most people didn’t even know. Maybe monsters knew about her, but after Medusuub, she was just another in a long line of power shifts. Her sisters weren’t even lucky enough to have that. The oldest, Tinni, had risen higher than the rest, taking position as her mother’s most trusted general. Eve had always been better with her wings, and was the captain of several teams of scouts. Britrian ended up as an advisor, one of the twelve that entered the monster lord’s most important meetings and negotiations. Angese was right along there with her. Belfuune, Gretchen, Quvenne... everyone had a place both in the leadership and the family.

Seira constantly clashed spirits with her sisters. Maybe it was because she was the youngest, or maybe because she was always surrounded by such success and drive. The answer mattered little, there was too much to learn about the world and the monsters around her to spend much time directing her thoughts inward. The long hallways in the castle made great racing grounds for her and Tinni. Eve loved the view from the skies above the castle, but Seira only cared for comparing aerial acrobatics with her. Books were meals before Seira’s eyes, but Britian always seemed to eat faster. Quvenne was easily the clumsiest of them, but as a result had the best sense of humor. She took after her father more than anyone else. Gretchen often found herself fascinated with the structure of the castle, and spent as much time as possible visiting other cities to study their buildings. She wasn’t around as much, but when she’d come home there was always a feast in the dining hall. For all her gusto and stubbornness, Seira had never been able to stay up long after those--though that might have been her fault, making sure that she always drank more wine than anyone else at the table. That gave her claim to the greatest headaches the day after, too.

She had names, memories, faces to treasure, to own. The rest of the world had nothing. Shouldn’t their lives have accounted to more? Their work stood for something? Shouldn’t monsters care about their loss of life? It just felt like such a waste that the only thing left of them was in Seira’s head. The castle, the empire, the respect they earned was all stolen by that damned medusa. All it had taken was one night, a fit of screams, blood, and, for Seira, tears. It wasn’t until a week later she finally got to lay eyes on that wretched thief, and it was only for a moment, but that was all she needed to burn the image into her mind. Galen may try to push Seira away from the monsters that surrounded Medusuub, but that was one monster whom nothing could stop Seira from killing. Medusuub would regret every moment of her life from the second of birth to the day she fell into Seira’s grasp. And that would only be the pain she knew on the first day in the rest of her miserable life.

The scraping of claw on stone snapped Seira out of her thoughts. She hadn’t even realized she was clenching her paws. Lifting her head up off the bell tower, she smiled, staring at her paw. At least she still had that anger. That was one thing she never wanted to let go, never wanted to forget. She’d hold it deep inside her heart, like a seed taking root in the ground, to burst out in one powerful moment of growth and consume everything that had tortured her all these years. Only then could she be at peace. If that was possible for one such as her.

“We are not among the common and the normal, Seira,” her mother had told her. “From the moment I took the throne, our lives became something else, beset upon by hate, difficulty, and ill circumstance. We have power, but in return we gave up comfort. The world will seek to hasten you to your deathbed ‘till the day you find it on your own.”

Just like everything else she’d said, her mother was right about that. Someone had spotted her scouting out Medusuub, and it hadn’t taken long for them to realize that a certain manticore’s body was not amongst the rest. The first few years were the hardest. It seemed like every inn, every dwelling, even the plains and forests she traveled through had ears and eyes belonging to Medusuub. Assassins stalked her path, always one step ahead, no matter how randomly she may have wandered or how humbly she lived. Even in the furthest reaches of the continent she knew no peace. She was forced to abandon her plans of revenge in order to stay alive.

So many nights sprinting through shadowed forests, light paws, sharp breaths and a thumping heart pushing her to her limits, knowing the slightest slip could cost her her life. Flying for days on end, throwing glances over her shoulder to see if, indeed, her pursuers were still there. Only with the fiercest willpower born of both necessity and quelling anger would she outlast her opponents. While the attempts to find and kill Seira never fell in number, Seira grew smarter. She learned the tricks to staying alive, staying hidden. Only after a couple decades was she able to recoup and form plans of revenge that might work.

Seira traced the patterns of rock on the rooftop. Those years fleeing had cost her more than she knew, though. Almost all of her old allies had either given up on her or were too afraid to challenge Medusuub’s solidifying rule. She even flew over the Great Blue Divide to the land the lizardmen immigrated to, but she was met with the same answer no matter who she asked. Fullsburg had been her last hope. She spat out a laugh. Her allies now were a slime, an immortal lizardman, and a boy from Nox with a magic sword. They’d been her new hope, though it wasn’t as if she had given up before meeting them. They were merely a convenience.

Shifting in place, Seira rubbed her stomach. Something she’d eaten from that hospital wasn’t settling right.

She still had allies, she just needed to give them reason to have faith in her. To lose their fear. Posiedon was one of Medusuub’s most powerful generals, just as she had been for Seira’s mother. Her power came not from the monster lord, but her rule over the seas. The scylla, kraken, mermaids, and even Undine respected her leadership. If Seira could convince Posiedon to put her confidence in Seira, or even just make it seem to the rest of the world as if she had, then surely she could begin to gather allies. Even if Seira failed to gain Posiden’s allegiance, if Galen succeeded she could give the impression that she had been the one to negotiate with Posiedon. That alone would be enough.

Right now, she needed to get Galen to stop fighting with her. A scowl stained her face. If she could only understand that ridiculous man! Things seemed so clear back in Fullsburg, but after breaking her out of the jail cell, he would always second-guess himself or come to the most senseless conclusions. The only time he’d been stalwart and of sound mind was apparently the thick of the Lands after Seira had been knocked out. He fought like a man should, and killed those that opposed him. If he’d just knocked them out again like the night before, they might’ve killed both him and Seira in their sleep in the hospital. His reckless idealism would make him feel good right up until the moment it landed a dagger in his back.

Apparently the lesson he learned that day in the Lands hadn’t stuck, as he was right back at it the next day. That visit in the hospital telling Seira to make friends with the slime had only perplexed her further. The slime was a pointless passenger in their journey. They should be dumping her off, not making friends. And who was he to talk about ‘not facing yourself’? Seira had to deal with the reality of knowing her family’s killer hadn’t suffered a single day since that massacre and sat on a throne stolen with blood. Every night, she heard that fiend’s name, and every night she had to ignore it, put it off, betray her family name for one more day.

Her teeth strained, crushing together as Seira pulled at her hair. Why did she need to tell herself all this? She knew Galen was wrong, didn’t she? Her revenge was justified. The simple act of being around him blurred the truth. She’d never doubted her purpose, and she couldn’t start now.

Leaving, however, was out of the question. Galen offered too much to her cause and if worse came to worse, Toneruth alone would be enough to conquer Medusuub. It fulfilled that duty wonderfully last time it was used. Not to mention Galen made an excellent meal. Oddly enough, he was the first male Seira had… taken from more than once and for some reason, her body warmed at the thought of taking from him again. The excitement she drew from it differed from every other time. The thrill had always been in the hunt, the fear on their faces, the brawl, the realization slowly dawning on her prey that they were losing, and when they finally succumbed, watching their face twist in a mixture of pain and pleasure. With Galen, however, the excitement was much more specific. It wasn’t that it was fear she saw, but Galen’s fear. The unique twitches of his face, the tells his body gave when he was close to release, his pathetic attempts to talk his way out of it, then his surrender. Her heart beat faster just thinking about it.

Nothing wrong with enjoying a meal, she thought. The important part was that she didn’t get carried away. Once she re-took the title of monster lord, she would have her pick of the finest husband if she wished, or she could stalk cities and villages for meals if she was of the mood. She would have options. Her mother may have made a mistake by choosing her husband so early. The man was too simple-minded for her, even if he was pleasant. A good man, but not a worthy one. If Galen grew up, he might even be worthy.

She shook her head. Why was she thinking about something like that? Galen growing up would be decades in the future, if at all, and she had far more pressing things to consider than a husband.

A gust of wind buffeted Seira, pushing her into the bell tower and drowning her in the perfect aridity of the Lands. She swallowed, trying to wet her throat, but only more dryness went down. She could almost feel her skin cracking, sitting up here under the full brunt of the weather. Looking upward, she covered her eyes. The clouds were a bit thinner today. The sun shone through them, a blurred circle like a giant eye staring down on her. Enough moping. She knew what she needed to do, the question now was how.

She’d have to face Galen again, that was for sure. Something told her even if she didn’t need him, she would’ve faced anyways. Leaving things unsettled as they were wasn’t her style. And it wasn’t like every word out of his mouth wasn’t true. Just most of them. If he was expecting her to come back begging for forgiveness, or proclaiming a reform, or a sacrifice of all her ideals, he was sorely mistaken. When she went back, she’d be laying down the ground rules so something like this wouldn’t happen again. It was her fault she didn’t make all her motives clear. She hadn’t really been lying when she told Sybyll she wasn’t doing this for revenge, but it wasn’t like killing Medusuub was of no importance, either. Galen loved stories, so she’d tell him stories about her past.

A grumble rolled out her mouth. Even if she was apparently a poor story-teller.

If she kept less to herself, he’d understand. All those years of secrecy and self-reliance had dulled her ability to travel with and rely on others. Their relationship required concessions from both sides. Maybe Galen was ignorant about many things, but Seira stuck around because he was intelligent and capable enough to learn.

Hopping to her feet, Seira rested her paws on her hips. That’s what she’d do. Set his expectations. Be straight and firm with him. He may see himself as the leader of their little group, but Seira’s ambitions dwarfed his like Mallus did his village on Nox. Surely he would understand that much. Punching her fists together, she leapt off the roof, spreading her wings to catch air and glided back to the building she’d run from. Hopefully they were still there; she wasn’t in the mood to go hunting around town for them. Mallus was large enough as-is.

Lucky for her, as she came in for a landing at the base of the steps leading in, the great doors opened, revealing Galen, Sybyll, and Mino. It took them a moment to realize Seira was standing right in front of them, but they all had different reactions when they did. Sybyll’s eyes narrowed a touch, still unwilling to let emotion truly take over her face, but now wary enough of Seira to let something show. Mino shrunk back, as if she expected Seira to jump forward and strike her. Galen’s face lit up, but immediately softened, then darkened, as if his brain was flipping through a catalog of emotions before finally settling on one.

Neither Seira nor Galen had a word to break the silence with. Seira’s mouth shifted to the side, not wanting to blabber anything out before she knew what she was dealing with. Sybyll was, in fact, the one to speak first.

“Come, Mino. There is somewhere for us to be.” She grabbed the slime’s arm and Mino went along with it, but could stop staring at Seira.

“W-where do we need to be?” Mino asked.

Sybyll grumbled a response, but by that time, they were already past Seira and walking down the street, and she couldn’t make out what was said. Her attention remained fixed on Galen.

“Uhh--“

She climbed the stairs in three swift strides, seizing Galen’s small hand in her beefy paw and yanking him back inside. “Come,” was all the explanation she offered. She checked to make sure the doors closed behind them, then pulled Galen along across the expansive lobby to the closest bench outside the earshot of any of the succubi wandering about. Galen followed in silence, the only sound from him a whoop when Seira plopped him down on the bench. Crossing her paws, she looked down on him, undecided between a frown and a straight face. She changed her mind about standing; she didn’t want Galen thinking she was demeaning him. Besides, it felt uncomfortable standing up for some reason. She sat close enough for her fur to brush up against Galen’s arm.

Their talk in the alley behind the inn in Fullsburg came to mind.

“So… your last name is Khertaleon, huh,” said Galen.

She gaped at him, incredulous lines creasing her brow. “Out of all the things to bring up first…” No, it wasn’t the time to get frustrated with him. It wouldn’t hurt to talk about her last name. “Yeah, it is.”

“I’ve, uh, never heard it before. I know your mother used to be the monster lord and everything, so, uh, yeah. Sorry.”

Hmm. So he was actually going somewhere with it. “It’s not your fault you weren’t educated in the history of monster lords. You’re a human. From Nox, no less. Don’t feel sorry.”

“Okay.”

His head sunk, his eyes locked on his hands as they played with each other. Seira held her head high and straight, giving Galen the occasional glance. Part of her wanted Galen to say something, part wanted to jump into a lecture about everything she wanted, and another part wanted nothing more than to sit there in silence. Apparently, Galen was having the same sort of trouble. His mouth kept opening then closing, an odd twitch here, a fidget there, like a hundred words were trying to push their way up his throat at once, allowing nothing to come out.

“I--“

“Galen--“

The two started talking at the same time, immediately stopping when they heard the other. They met eyes only to exchange glances.

“Sorry, you go,” said Galen.

“No, I want to hear what you were going to say,” said Seira.

“It’s not really, uh, that important, maybe.”

“Then why were you going to say it? Out with it.” The corner of her mouth twitched and she started tapping her claws on the bench.

His hands quickened their pointless squirming. “It’s just, I, uhh, I didn’t, well, I can’t, I won’t take back anything I said ‘cause I meant it all. But I wanted to say I really do consider you a friend and I, er, care about you.”

Can’t even get out a sentence with tripping over his words, thought Seira, appraising the nerve-wrecked Galen with a stern a look as she could manage. His words were sincere, however. “I understand your stance. I did even when I left, but that doesn’t make it any less frustrating.”

She swore the lobby brightened when Galen heard her response. His face positively glowed. All hint of that darkness she saw on it earlier vanished as if it had never been there. It was cute in its candor. 

“T-then, you’re not leaving?”

“Is that what you were afraid of? No, I’m not leaving. I’m not so much a child to run away after not getting exactly what I want.” Did he seriously believe her so crass and vulnerable?

“Good. I’m glad.” He hardly needed to state it.

He lightly slapped his legs, his hands no longer needing to fumble around with each other. While he sat up straight now, he was hardly more talkative, and after a few seconds, his fingers began to tap on his legs, much like Seira’s claws on the bench. She bit her lower lip. She had a plan on what to say here, but now that she was faced with the task, she couldn’t think of how to go about it.

“We should--“

“I was--“

They both stopped themselves, eyes meeting for a moment once more.

“You go this time,” said Galen.

“You have to--“ No, she didn’t want to sound too forceful. “You should understand my stance as well. I have my own goals, and there are times they won’t line up with yours. I’m traveling with you as part of the group, but I’m not all I am. I can’t…” She paused, taking in a deep breath. “There is no way for me to ever stop moving toward my goals with anything less than the entirety of my ability. There’s more to me than the Seira you’ve built up in your head. That’s all.”

“Okay.” He nodded. “I understand.”

What was she doing? She’d told herself she was going to lay ground rules, be stern and forward with him, make him understand that she would do what she was going to do, but all she’d ended up saying was ‘please understand’. How could it be so difficult to be firm with Galen? He was as flimsy as laundry in a windstorm. Rubbing her chin, she stared out across the lobby. He said he understood. She could at least trust him far enough to believe that, right? No need to be overly-abrasive. Not only was the poor kid likely still raw from their last discussion, but she didn’t want him doing something rash like kicking her out of the group. She still needed him.

“Can you at least try to work with the group a little more? Maybe not be so mean to Mino? And, uhh,” his voice trembled as he reached out and laid a hand on Seira’s shoulder. She about shrugged it off on instinct, but it rested so nicely, and his touch was so gentle Seira could make herself annoyed at it. “Tell me more about yourself? So the Seira in my head and the real thing are a bit closer?”

Seira pushed her upper lip upward, flaring out her nostrils. “I can try.”

He squeezed her shoulder, showing off that reckless smile again. Whether she meant the answer or not, it made him happy.

She was alright with that.

**Chapter 29**

“And why in all the Lands would Ahdria want me to hear that?” said Seira, taking another drink. It wasn’t alcohol, but in Mallus water was almost as good. Plus, it wasn’t like they had money to pay for anything. The water was free.

“Context, she said,” said Galen, laying his hands on the table between them. “She assumed there was a good portion of that story you didn’t know, and that it was important you did before trying to take down Medusuub.”

“Hmph.” Seira looked away, lifting her chin with the scoff, but Galen could tell from the focus on her eyes she was reflecting of what he said. Even if she didn’t want to admit accepting help from Ahdria, she wasn’t rash enough to refuse useful information.

“I think it may be of more use than it first seems,” said Sybyll. Her eyes had never left Seira since they walked inside the bar.

“How did you come to think that?” asked Seira.

“Medusuub was wronged as a human, forced to become a monster and likely used that rage to fuel her desire to take the title of monster lord. There are parts of her story even you might sympathize with.”

Galen cringed when he saw Seira’s grip on her mug tighten. “I will never sympathize even the slightest with that bitch of a monster.”

He had no interest in seeing those two start fighting. He leapt in with another thought. “Context is important, but Medusuub’s past as a human could be useful in another way. Wouldn’t monsters lose faith in their leader if they heard she was born human?”

Seira turned to him, but he could swear she was somehow leaving one eye fixed on Sybyll. “That is a good idea, but I fear it won’t be near as effective as I need it to be. It might do something to sway her allies in conjunction with several other incriminating pieces of information, but alone it means nothing. Unless you can somehow turn her back into a human.”

“That’s possible? I mean, it would be a pretty great way to take her legs out from underneath her.” He paused, then added, “Well, it would give her legs back which we could then take out from underneath her.”

Seira shook her head. “No. Many have tried, but no one has even been able to do so. It’s been all but abandoned by anyone that might try. Even bringing it up will get you weird looks.”

“Long ago, there was rumored to be some progress made on that by the most powerful mages, but without any concrete evidence, it will remain in the realm of myth,” added Sybyll. “I’ve heard much about it too, Galen, but it would be best to consider it impossible.”

He silently lamented his joke dying without a single chuckle. Mino, at least, was sitting with a massive grin on her face, probably trying to keep from laughing, so at least he could take pride in that.

His face wrinkled with a slight frown. It seemed so harsh for Mino to be restricted around Seira as she was. He understood why she did it, and to an extent appreciated the consideration toward Seira, but that didn’t make it any more fair to Mino. She should have the freedom to make poor jokes, over-enthusiastic statements, or hum random tunes when Seira was with them. The fact that she couldn’t fully appreciate his humor was frustrating enough on its own.

Seira said she would try, though, and if Mino was content to police herself like this, then he wouldn’t rattle the cage. After speaking with Seira, he felt it was only a matter of time. No matter how much it pained him to do so, this was one thing he would be better off leaving alone.

“Seeing as you’re relaying all this to me because Ahdria wished it, I’m assuming you got something useful out of her in return?” said Seira.

“We… we did, actually.” His voice rang without a hint of enthusiasm. He flipped his pack over his shoulder to rest it in his lap, rummaged through it for a second, the pulled out the result of their negotiations with Ahdria. A fist-sized stone, a kaleidoscope of warm colors that shifted with the light. Resting in Galen’s palm, he could feel warmth flowing into him. Instead of comfort, however, the stone offered uneasiness, like he was holding a dead squirrel that still produced body heat.

Seira leaned forward, moving her head to and fro, taking in the glow of the stone. He never saw recognition in her eyes, only wonder, so he expected the question that followed.

“What is it?”

“A key, she said.” Galen stashed it back in his pack. The shorter he had to touch it, the better. “She was the one who put the seals on the entrances to the castle, so she knew exactly how to open them. It won’t completely break the seals, which probably would’ve been ideal, but it will get us in there when we need to.”

She nodded, leaning back in her chair and taking another drink. Seeing her drink made Galen thirsty as well and he chugged the rest of his water. They were very lucky it was free.

“I don’t suppose she mentioned another seal?”

“Another…? Ah,” said Galen, lowering his head. After getting the stone from Ahdria, Galen had thought their problems were solved, but she brought up a second barrier, one that was going to cause them more trouble. Apparently Seira knew about it as well. “The Covenant. Yeah, she mentioned it, and she said she’d give us a way to break it if she had one, but she knew of nothing. She told us it was too old, even for her.” He absentmindedly grasped Toneruth’s hilt. “Though she didn’t really go into too much detail about it. What is the Covenant, exactly? ”

Seira smiled. “I suppose it’s my turn to tell you a little bit about history. About five hundred years ago, Solvet killed Suusuub II and ended the second human-monster war before it started. You already know this, and you undoubtedly know about the Scar of the World, the great cut in the earth and sea left in the wake of Toneruth’s overwhelming power. It was that blow that struck down Suusuub II and her army. Suusuub III, seeking an advantage over the countless monsters than sought her succession, went to the human king at the time and demanded protection. She said Toneruth violated the spirit of the treaty that it was commissioned under, giving the humans such a significant advantage over the monsters. She wanted something equal, something that could give her a similar power.

“The king was a pushover, one who lived a life sheltered from monsters, so when approached by the monster lord herself, he quickly gave in. Besides, her argument did have some weight to it, especially after what Toneruth had unleashed on her predecessor. The king complied with her demand, but perhaps not exactly how she wished. His cowardice worked against her. Instead of commissioning another sword, one to match Toneruth, he had shield of magic created. Just like with Toneruth, two of the most skilled mages, a succubus and a human, were tasked with the creation of such a shield. Instead of binding magic to a physical shield, however, they decided to take a different angle. They had a jeweler create a necklace and weaved powerful enchantments into it to protect whoever wore it. The creation of it took many years, almost too many for poor Suusuub III, but eventually they finished and presented her with it, called the Covenant as a gesture from humans to monsters to seal the agreement they made with that treaty so many years ago.”

Seira leaned forward onto the table, laying her paws across each other. “As you can imagine, she wasn’t exactly happy with it, but she was in no position to bargain, and had no time to ask for something else. Besides, the thing did exactly what she wanted it to do: protect her. While wearing the necklace, an invisible, impenetrable magical barrier covered her. It was a bit awkward to manipulate items with her hands, and physical contact, even benign, was impossible, but the protection was worth it. Many attempts on her life failed due to that barrier. For a while, it was even thought she was invincible.”

“Then how did she die?” asked Galen.

Seira’s grin lit up her face as if Galen had just told a joke. “She took it off at night. It was just another piece of jewelry and it bothered her to wear it in bed. So that’s when the assassins struck.” She shrugged. “Suusuub III wasn’t a complete fool, but far too foolish to be a monster lord.”

Galen’s head unconsciously nodded while he stared at the table and tapped it in thought. “Did your mom have it?”

Seira’s face soured. “Yes, she did.”

“Then, how…?”

“She was betrayed. That’s how Medusuub’s forces got in the castle, and that’s how they killed her.” Her voice came out low and ruffled. Galen chose not to pursue the subject any further.

“Did you have a plan for dealing with the Covenant, then?”

“I had hoped to find something here in Mallus, but if Ahd--that succubus can’t help us and she’s this place’s expert on seals and barriers, I don’t think we’ll find anything here.”

“Is there a time she takes it off at all, like Suusuub III?” asked Sybyll.

The question grabbed Seira’s attention vividly, likely from Sybyll’s jumping in. Seira paused, biting her lower lip. “Unfortunately, I’ve heard she never takes the damned thing off. That won’t be a valid option for us.”

“Could we remove it? There must be some way to take it off,” said Sybyll.

“We cannot. The only way for the necklace to come off is if the wearer removes it. Anyone else trying to touch the necklace would be repelled.” A hint of a smile returned to her face. “But we do have options. Being a defensive object, the Covenant can’t really stop us from taking the castle on its own, or even save Medusuub’s soldier’s lives, and she herself is only a single fighter. Should we take the castle, we could simply lock her in a room and the Covenant wouldn’t help at all. I’ll admit to being… annoyed at the prospect of taking no further action toward her, but taking the castle and the title back would be acceptable.”

The way with which Seira had to force the words from her mouth did little to convince Galen. If Seira had Medusuub in a dungeon, there was no way she’d leave things at that. Pushing the issue right now would likely only aggravate her, however, so Galen didn’t push it.

“Well, with that finished,” said Seira, slapping her mug on the table, “I think we’ve gotten what we’ve come for, haven’t we?”

“Huh.” The thought hadn’t occurred to him. He’d been so caught up in actually getting things done, trying to make up with Seira, and recovering for the fight beforehand that he never considered when they’d be leaving. “I guess. I mean, you’re the one who wanted to come here in the first place.”

“That’s everything I needed, and I don’t know about you, but I’m awfully ready to leave.”

“I as well,” said Sybyll.

“Me too,” said Mino. Seira glanced in her direction like she’d forgotten Mino was there, but that was all.

‘I’ll try,’ Seira had said. If silence in a situation like this was trying, well, that was a start.

“I guess if we’re leaving, we’ll need a destination,” said Galen. “I’d like to meet Poseidon next, then head to Uuluth to repair Toneruth.”

“Are you sure you do not wish to repair it now?” asked Sybyll. “Poseidon is a powerful monster likely allied with the monster lord. The weapon may prove useful.”

“I have no intention of using it when we meet with her. Besides, I’m not trying to start a conflict, I’m just investigating the blockade on Nox and trying to change her mind about it. I don’t see how that could lead to trouble.”

Seira chuckled. “Really? I wish I could have that kind of blind optimism.” Her voice lowered. “It’s not going to go as smoothly as you want it to. Nothing ever does.”

Her warning only stirred stubbornness within Galen. “I’ll just be careful, then.”

Seira shrugged, not saying another word. Galen spotted her ears twitching, however, and a grin so smug he could feel his blood heating at the sight of it.

“If that’s settled, let’s get ready,” he said.

  
** 

  
Night came again, and again passed in heat and silence. The hospital provided lounging for Galen, Sybyll, and Mino, though rudimentary. Seira, however, had apparently left before she’d been cleared, and the doctors were in a fuss to get her back in a proper bed. Though a stubborn manticore, with a little coaxing from Galen, she begrudgingly gave in and was whisked off.

They had no troubles leaving the city. In fact, quite the opposite. Water and food were provided by the hospital, surprisingly enough at no charge. Galen had accepted with an over-eager smile and embarrassed sweat. It wasn’t often he was offered handouts, so he wasn’t exactly practiced in accepting them. Mallus must’ve been rather well off to provide so much for a few random travelers. They even went as far as to provide Mino with a little something so she wouldn’t need to feed off Galen for a while. He imagined Seira was pleased with that arrangement. 

The pleasant surprises didn’t end at the hospital, however. As they made it to the city gates, they were briefly stopped and questioned by guards who provided some good news. As they were heading northeast, they were taking the only other viable path from Mallus, and it was maintained much better than the other. Traders and other caravans that came to and from Mallus, while somewhat infrequent, all used that path, while the other hadn’t been touched in many years. Not only were all the waypoints along the path fully-functional, they also emitted a time-distortion field.

Galen’s jaw had dropped open at the mention of it.

While the succubi’s manipulation of time was still fairly limited, they did have the ability to give travelers the chance to make it all the way through the Scorched Lands in one day without the need for horses or a grueling pace like they had set on the way in. A great weight vanished from Galen’s chest and he could swear he heard the other members of the party sigh in their own ways as well. Mino shrunk at least three inches.

As the great heavy gates closed behind them, Galen smiled one last time upon the city before turning to the ferocity of the Lands. It hadn’t been the most pleasant experience, but surely a necessary one. He stole a glance at Seira.

It hadn’t been all bad, either.

Seira was the first to head out, her legs settling into a jog. Galen and Sybyll weren’t far behind and Mino took up the rear.

“They said we’d have plenty of time,” said Galen, checking the sun. There was still a layer of clouds, but it was thin enough to make out the sun. “It’s just past dawn.”

“They said we could make it through in a day. They didn’t specify how fast we’d have to travel to make it through in a day, and I’ve no intention of putting my trust in the words of a stranger.” She looked over her shoulder at him. “Afraid of a little jogging?”

Well, when she put it that way… “No! I just--”

“Just want to enjoy the scenery?” She gestured to the thick spouts of flame to their left and right. As if on cue, a harsh gust of stale, dry air hit Galen in the face. Her tail was swaying back and forth, almost as if wagging at him.

“Fine.” He didn’t have the wits to match Seira this early, it seemed. Later.

A light jog carried them through the Lands for many hours broken up only by infrequent stops for water. Seira lead them like she had on the way in, while Galen, Mino, and Sybyll all jogged fairly close to one another. Galen considered calling out to Seira more than once and asking her to jog with them, but she probably had other things on her mind. Always planning, always so fiercely independent she was. At least after Mallus he kinda understood why. She hadn’t had the time or capacity to consider anyone else in all those years she’d been running and planning. Working with a group couldn’t be easy.

The though made him want to call out to her even more.

He spoke with Mino and Sybyll about some of the things that happened while he was asleep, if they had any trouble in Mallus, and what they thought of the situation. Mino was oddly tight-lipped, and Sybyll gave answers that amounted to a shrug. Either they didn’t have a strong opinion on anything, or their feelings were so strong they didn’t feel comfortable sharing. Before meeting Cea, Galen would’ve thought such emotion was impossible from Sybyll, but now he couldn’t help but think the exact opposite was true. While he spoke with Mino and Sybyll, he kept glancing at Seira. More specifically, her ears. He considered keeping his voice down, but from the constant twitching of her ears, he figured she’d have heard every word regardless.

Maybe that’s the very thing she was thinking about: what happened in Mallus and what everyone else thought about it. She might be judging their reactions, calculating how best to proceed. She may have sniffed out some change in their demeanor and wanted to find the cause of it.

Through all the words passing between them, all Galen could hear was silence. This wasn’t the first time he’d felt this way. Just before they entered the Scorched Lands, he’d come to the realization his group wasn’t close, and Mallus had solved nothing. A common cause had brought them all together for a short while, but now that the dilemma was past, they’d gone right back to how they were before. Worse, in some ways. Sybyll kept a suspicious eye on Seira and Seira sent one back. Mino walked on eggshells around Seira, and her energetic self showed up less and less. Was it because of Seira’s outburst, when she revealed her aim of revenge, when that raw passion of hers broke through the confident, calculated persona she’d set up?

Was it possible for them, even the slightest bit, to see Seira as… a bad guy?

Galen thought back to the beginning of his journey, before meeting Sybyll, before Seira, before even making it to the mainland. His mind went to his first encounter with trouble: the Kraken. Helpless to her whims, even with all the energy and optimism he’d set out with. She’d wrapped him up before he realized the situation he was in, and only with some convincing and a mountain of luck had he made it past her. Helplessness. He’d become intimate familiar with that feeling. Every time trouble found them, it’d rise up again. Even after finding Toneruth, what had he managed? Almost got captured by orcs, put Seira in a jail cell, and murdered three monsters. What kind of hero was he? Who would tell stories about his Great Journey? What sort of father could be proud of it?

Exhaustion began to set in, heat in its wake. Galen’s body pulled him from his thoughts and he found himself panting so hard it could be wheezing. His legs about collapsed from underneath him. The sweat that ran down his body made him look like he’d been caught in a rainstorm. Each breath squeezed at his chest, and with a stumble he broke out of his jog and came to a stop, planting his hands on his knees and bending over to rest.

Sybyll and Mino stopped at once, with Seira a few seconds behind. Seira came back to the rest of the group to get a good look at Galen.

“The pace I set to get to Mallus was much faster than this. Why are you tired all of a sudden?”

“Such a thing is understandable,” said Sybyll. “He has only just recovered from a dreadfully-taxing experience, and the Lands are not an ideal place to rest. His body is still coping.” She rested a claw on Galen’s back. “We should rest here a short while.”

Seira gave Sybyll a half-frown, but shrugged after a moment of consideration. “Whatever. Won’t get us out of here any faster, though.”

Sybyll helped Galen sit down, laying a claw on his chest to check his heartbeat before walking around behind him, then sat up straight against his back to give him something to rest on. Mino sat down at his side while Seira took a seat on a nearby rock. A spout of flame roared in the distance.

“Forgive me for prying, but are you… brooding?” asked Sybyll.

Galen head jerked up, looking to Sybyll as soon as the last word left her mouth.

“Yeah, you don’t seem too happy. I mean, we did just make it out of Mallus and by the end of the day we’ll be out of the Scorched Lands,” Mino added, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You should be happy. You should always be happy.”

Galen squirmed under the touch. His left shoulder was flaring up again and he absentmindedly scratched it. Was he really so obvious? “Brooding? I, well, I was…” His voice trailed off. Should he tell them? Would that help or make things worse?

“You were what? Please, tell us so we can help,” said Mino. Her eyes quivered, as if her greatest was before her.

So they could help, huh. How could he ask them to help themselves for him? He felt three pairs of eyes on him, each with varying degrees of intensity, curiosity, and annoyance. They all probably thought he was wrestling with something inside, something involving with himself, not them. If he told them, would they despise him for it? Lose faith in him? Or, worst of all, not care? Great adventurers didn’t whine about every problem they encountered to others, they didn’t need help to overcome obstacles. When it came down to it, they had the strength and intelligence to push through. His father would probably know what to do here, some magic line to alleviate everyone’s concerns while keeping his pride intact.

“Sybyll was right. I’m just tired. I wasn’t expecting to get worn out so soon.”

Mino sighed, smiling to herself, but Galen could clearly detect two others who weren’t so easily convinced. He’d taken far too long to answer, and now both of them knew something was up. Hopefully, they didn’t push the issue.

“We should rest a bit longer, then,” said Sybyll.

Sighing, Galen relaxed against Sybyll’s back and took a long drink from his waterskin. His shouldered burned again, making him scratch it more earnestly this time. It flared up at the oddest times. Frowning, he wondered when it would actually go back to normal.

They lounged around for a few minutes more before Seira stood up, saying they should probably get going. Their pace had been leisurely enough, no need pushing their luck with daylight. Galen checked the sun and his stomach churned at the sight. Seira was right; night would be falling before long. If they weren’t already close to the edge of the Lands, then they might be in trouble. He gave no protest when they set out a bit faster than before. As much as his lungs might have burned, he wanted to get out of the Lands even more.

Just as the sun was threatening to touch the horizon, they arrived at the outer barrier to the Lands, a small ring of mountains--well, Galen heard they were mountains. In truth, they looked much more like very tall hills. Unlike last time they passed through, there was a clear path leading through. It was hardly straight, but it didn’t appear as brutal as the previous ascent. A grim smile spread on Galen’s face. Almost there.

Seira had already started up the path, her beefy paws easily carrying her along. Galen watched her a few moments before realizing Sybyll and Mino were waiting on him. He bounded into action, taking the first few steps in great strides. His energy got away from him, however, and he stumbled shortly after, saved from a fall only by Sybyll’s quick reactions. Her arm braced his back and gave him a chance to steady himself. Blushing, he muttered a thanks and made to continue, but Sybyll still hadn’t let go.

“This is not like you. Be careful.”

“Eh?” He forced a smile. “I’ve always been a little clumsy.” He looked up the path before them. “Why are there all these mountains and hills around the Scorched Lands, anyways? Seems like an odd coincidence.”

“It is hardly a coincidence.” She released Galen, gesturing for him to continue up the path. “The mountains were formed at the same time as the Scorched Lands. Many say there was even once a great mountain in its place.”

“Wait, one mountain? Or a mountain range? Because one mountain covering the entire Lands would be…”

“Monstrous. It is not known for sure. The Scorched Lands were formed so long ago, at the advent of monsters themselves, that no one alive today can speak with confidence about it.” The traces of an amused smile tinted her face. “Except for the spirits, of course, but they’re hardly reliable for things like that.”

“But there are stories?” Excitement seeped into his voice. He’d never heard a tale about the origin of the Lands.

“Stories, yes. I would not put much faith in them,” came Sybyll’s curt reply.

“Can you tell one?”

A distinct pause preceded Sybyll’s response. Galen had expected a sigh along with it. “It is said that in the center of this continent stood a great mountain, reaching higher than the eye could see and as far abreast as the sea. The former was obviously an exaggeration, but people back then didn’t know exactly how far across the sea truly was.”

“Sybyll…” He stopped climbing to turn around and shoot her a look.

“What?”

“Don’t ruin the story.”

She rolled her eyes but continued. “No one knew how such a mountain came into being, for such a monument surely could not have been a natural occurrence. Some say the great goddess, mother of man, created it to show her power and remind men of who made them. Some say the world itself could see the splendor of the goddess and yearned to touch her. Others say it was the great demon all along, building up power and pressure to burst forth into the world. For all we know, it could’ve been an ordinary mountain that people simply told more and more ridiculous--“

Galen’s glare cut her off.

“What we do know is how things ended up. The mountain turned out to be a sleeping volcano, and when it burst, it did not simply erupt. It exploded. From the base to the tip, rock cracked, roared, and burst, sending fireballs, heat, and thunder into the air. The world heard its breaking. Maybe the great goddess spurned the world for trying to reach her. Maybe the great demon grew jealous of the goddess and destroyed her monument in spite, or perhaps the mountain had been of the demon’s architecture all along. Regardless, in its place it left a void, a great crater from which all forms of demons and demon energy spewed forth. It may be monsters came from this void, or instead infected human women who then turned into monsters themselves. The second would make more sense, given their dependency on human men, but it is all merely guesswork. But that is all the story I know behind it. You would need to find an expert to learn more.”

Squeezing his hands together, Galen shivered. “So cool.”

Sybyll’s deadpan stare said anything but. “It is conjecture and superstition. The truth is more likely something mundane. If a massive volcano was imbued with magic, say, then the subsequent eruption may have breached--“

“Nope!” Galen covered his ears, hurrying along the path away from Sybyll. “The other explanation is much better!”

In his haste, he didn’t catch the warmth spreading on her face, reaching to the corners of her mouth and curling them upward just the slightest bit.

**Chapter 30**

Streaks of moonlight on the heels of the encroaching night had caught up with the group halfway through the mountains, moonlight so bright it could’ve had weight to it. They chose to set up for the night right, not needing to brave the uneven, unknown ground without light like when they’d first entered the Lands. Nature was not kind enough to offer them a cave for shelter, however, so they found a comfortable as a position they could and slept. Thankfully, the heat from the Lands kept them warm enough, something Galen knew he’d be missing as they headed north and into autumn.

Woken by a harsh breeze, Galen shivered and stood up, rubbing his arms. He’d been hoping the cold would hold off for at least a little while longer. Grumbling, he got to his feet and started stretching. Better to get up and moving than complain about it. As he ran through his routine, he scanned the area. Sybyll was awake, sitting cross-legged atop a boulder and staring out upon the path they’d be traveling. Seira was still asleep, lying on her side and head resting in her paws, a soft frown on her face and even breaths flowing in a out her lungs. Inspecting some rocks a short ways off was Mino. She’d pick one up, take a look at it, then toss it aside for another. Galen hadn’t taken her for a geologist.

Once she spotted him, however, she forgot all about the rocks and skipped over, plopping herself down in front of him.

“I can’t wait to meet Poseidon! I wonder what she’s like?” said Mino.

“If she’s really such a powerful monster, she must be old and wise. Hopefully, someone agreeable as well.” Galen raised his arms over his head. “I’m just glad to be out of the Lands.”

“Yeah, I didn’t enjoy it either. At least Mallus was kinda fun.”

Galen found himself smiling at Mino’s definition of ‘fun’. He would’ve used a different word. “Is it hard for slimes in an environment like that? Or did you just not like it?”

“Slimes like moist, wet environments. It’s harder for us to keep a solid form and replenish the slime we lose when it’s hot and dry like in the Lands. Plus, well, it just feels bad.” She stuck out her tongue in disgust.

“I know the feeling.”

Odd he was smiling all of a sudden. Yesterday had been so full of worries and pent-up emotions he never thought his spirits could rise so quickly. He shook his head. Another reason Mino shouldn’t have to be so reserved. He’d forgotten how blindly cheerful she could be.

“Mino.”

“Mm-hmm?”

Finishing his stretches, he scooted closer to her and sat properly, trying to give her as serious a face as he could, though such a thing was difficult before her innocent grin and open posture.

“I do appreciate what you’re doing for Seira by staying quiet and reserved while she’s around. It means a lot that you’re so understanding and willing to give her space.” He took a deep breath. “But you don’t need to be so selfless about it. I’ve talked with Seira and she said she’d try to get along, and while it would be a good idea not to, err, go all-out with her, I don’t want you subduing yourself so much. You’re important to me and the group, and I want you to be able to talk when you feel like talking. I want you to be you.”

Her head lowered a touch and she brought her hands together, squeezing so hard they lost form and turned into a circular blob. “Are you sure? I don’t want her to hate me any more, and I really don’t mind staying quiet.”

Galen laid a hand on her shoulder. He opened his mouth, but choked on the words. Was this really so hard to say? Sure, Seira wouldn’t be thrilled if she knew about this, but this was important. Necessary. Seira wasn’t the only one here who mattered.

“Y-yes, I am sure. Besides, how will Seira ever learn to face her problems if her problems never face her? It may take time, but I think she’ll learn to understand.”

Mino pounced, wrapping up Galen in arms and hair-tentacles for a hell of a hug. She squeezed so hard the air was forced from his lungs. While he expected a cold touch, what he got instead was warmth. Was this warmth natural? Or something Mino was doing with her body on purpose?

“Thank you.”

Only when she had released him could Galen manage a “You’re welcome.”

Now all he could do is hope he hadn’t fanned the flames of Seira’s temper. Speaking of, the manticore was rising, stretching her arms to the sky and letting out a bestial yawn. Her teeth shone in the morning light a moment before she closed her mouth, eyes going straight to Galen. She noted Mino sitting right next to him and scoffed, turning her head away but keeping an eye on him. Hopping to her feet, she stretched one last time and checked the position of the sun.

“Now’s a good a time as any to get going,” she said, and started down the path, but Galen stopped her.

“You’re forgetting breakfast.”

“Funny, I feel plenty full,” she said, her mouth curling into a grin. “And the way I eat would be rather rude to do in front of others.”

Galen blushed, looking away. “Well, the rest of us need to eat.”

“I still require no sustenance,” said Sybyll from her perch on the rock.

“And I’m still fine with what I got from the hospital!” said Mino.

Grumbling, Galen shoved his hands into his pack, looking for a meal. “Fine, fine. I’ll eat alone.”

“I didn’t say you had to eat alone!” said Mino, adjusting her spot across from Galen.

“Indeed. I will join you,” said Sybyll. She hopped down from her rock and took a seat right next to Mino. When Galen looked back to Seira, she waved a hand in dismissal and started wandering around the area. Trying to convince her would probably just leave to trouble, so he left it alone.

When he started munching on the rations the hospital had provided, however, silence hung over the three but for the crunching of food between his teeth. Neither Mino nor Sybyll seemed interested in starting a conversation, content with staring at Galen as he chowed through his small meal. At least it tasted alright. Nothing like home cooking back on Nox, but far better than hunger.

Odd that they wouldn’t have anything to talk about. Hadn’t they gotten to know each other a little better in Mallus? Or was his eating really so entertaining to watch? He tried not staring back at them, but the longer things went on, the more awkward the food felt in his mouth to the point he couldn’t bring himself to chew anymore. It was like he was on some sort of stage and the audience was deeply invested, only he had no idea under what criteria he was being judged. With a swallow, he wiped some sweat away from the base of his neck.

“Umm…”

“That’s so neat,” said Mino.

“Neat?”

“Yeah. I never get tired of watching humans eat. Or monsters, really. Just thinking about all the stuff that goes on with their bodies hidden behind all that skin and muscle. With slimes you can see everything, but it’s really boring. With humans, you can’t see anything. It’s a total mystery.” She laid her head on her hands, now staring at Galen’s stomach. “I wish I could see it sometimes, but imagination is just as good.”

“Sybyll?” he asked.

“Yes?”

“Well, you just seemed kinda quiet.”

“I was thinking about certain things, and Mino was quite absorbed in viewing you that I wished not to disturb her.”

“Care to share what you were thinking about?”

Her eyes narrowed. That took Galen aback, stopping him mid-bite. The last time he’d seen that was directed toward Seira after the talk with Ahdria.

“Later, perhaps.”

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know any more.

Breakfast finished quickly, as Galen’s anxiety rushed the rest of the food down his throat. Seira was all too ready for them to head out, and took the lead the moment she saw they were ready. Galen had to jog up to her and stop her to ask what sort of route they were going to be taking.

A confident, practically smug smile grew on her face at the question. “Sure. Take out the map and I’ll show you.”

He did so. She stood by his side, letting her furry arms brush up against his. “Here,” she said, pointing. “There’s the main road to Uuluth, straight northeast, which we’ll be taking for a while, but here we’ll split off and head due east to the shore.” She drew a line with her claw from the path to the spot Galen had marked. “That’s where the arachne said Posiedon was.” After a short pause she added, “There’ll be a nice little surprise when you get there, too.”

“Surprise?”

“Nothing bad, in fact I think you’ll enjoy it. But you’ll have to see it.”

His eyes wandered up from the map to her face. At that moment, the wind picked up, seizing the bloom of her auburn hair and that distinctive braid always trailing behind her, tossing it about like the tall grass of the plains they’d traversed several days ago. The white tufts of fur along her arms, legs and neck rippled to the wind’s demand as well, an odd sort of synchronization over her entire body. Though the gusting wind hid her piercing red eyes behind flowing, wispy hair, it couldn’t hope to bury them completely. He caught glimpses of them, fierce and powerful as always, staring at the map with a silent determination he recognized. And through all the raging winds, he realized he’d never gone cold. She was his warmth there, standing in the middle of the path, and he guessed she didn’t even know it.

When that razor gaze shifted to him, a current of warmth rushed up from his feet to his face and back down again.

“What is it? That is where Poseidon is, right? Or did you mark the map for some other reason?”

“W-what? Oh, oh, no, that’s definitely it. Sorry, I was just, uh, a little cold.” He glanced behind himself to the other two, but was surprised to find an unfurled wing blocking his vision. “T-thanks for blocking the wind.”

“Blocking the--?” She looked to where he was looking, froze, then immediately retracted her wing. “Oh. No, I was just stretching it. That’s all. It can get cramped in the morning sometimes. Especially if I lay on it the wrong way. It’s also just a good idea to give it some exercise. I haven’t flown in a while. Maybe I should.” She shook her head furiously for a second. “Never mind, doesn’t matter.”

Taking the map, she wrapped it back up and stuffed it roughly back into Galen’s pack then took the lead without another word. Galen shrugged internally at her sudden brashness, but started off behind her, eager to get to their next destination. It’d been far too long since he’d made that promise to the Kraken and it was high time he started making good on it.

  
**

  
“I said, keep your head DOWN!” hissed Seira, seizing the top of Galen’s head and shoving back down into the bush.

He knew why she wanted him to do so, but there were just so many monsters he hadn’t seen before! They were so close, too!

Before the group’s tentative shelter of a row of thick bushes marched a venerable legion of monsters. Lamia, medusa, arachne, salamanders, centaur, and a host of other species flowed along the path, some carrying heaps of supplies, others pulling carts, even others overseeing the host’s movement before marching forward themselves. A thunder of hooves, claws and feet echoed throughout the land, the one thing that Seira’s ears had picked up early enough for them to find shelter. They hadn’t just picked any clump of bushes, either, but a flowering clump with a thick scent to override their own. Seira said there were plenty of monsters with noses keen enough to pick them out had they simply huddled behind a rock.

As scared as Galen knew he should be, he just couldn’t keep the bursting curiosity in his chest from settling down.

“How many do you think there are?” whispered Galen, unable to take his eyes off the spectacle.

“Depends on how much longer this line of monsters goes on. I’d guess one or two thousand from the supplies they have with them,” said Seira.

“So cool.” From the stories he’d heard, however, armies were much larger, numbering into the tens of thousands. “But that doesn’t seem like much for an army.”

“Alone, no. But you don’t need a full-sized army to do everything, and they may be joining up with a larger force later.”

“Do you have any idea what they’d be doing here?” asked Sybyll, her eyes just as attentive as Galen’s, but more focused.

Seira glanced back and forth between the marching monsters and Sybyll. “My guess is they’re positioning to take some of the smaller villages in the outskirts up north, just outside of the authority of Uuluth.” Her expression darkened. “Or even some within, depending on how confident Medusuub is. Seeing arachne with them is a bad sign. They were one of the species more stringently aligned with my mother. Medusuub must’ve negotiated their cooperation recently. That would give her the strength to make a move like this.”

Galen squinted, trying to get a clearer look at the monsters. “Most of them don’t seem to have armor or a uniform at all. Don’t armies usually have that?”

“True,” said Seira, “but when the fighting is purely human against monster, you have less need for uniforms. The lack of armor is probably a combination of the lack of monster blacksmiths and slow trickle of such supplies from human suppliers.”

“Why would it be such a problem to get armor from humans?”

“Well, first, there’s the initial reluctance to sell anything of military value to monsters. Sure, blacksmiths want to make a living, but so many of them are human and that prejudice still hasn’t disappeared. Second, Medusuub doesn’t want to hint that she’s about to start a war, and ordering massive amounts of armor and weapons at the same time would be a definite giveaway. So she has to have several different buyers obtain it over a long period of time, time she just hasn’t had since deciding to engage in war. As far as monster blacksmiths go, well, those were mostly salamanders and lizardmen, the former of which probably had no trouble going to work, but the latter left this continent a while ago.” She paused. “Most of them, at least.”

“Is there some way for us to stop them?” asked Galen.

He received three looks all at once, one as if he was crazy, one concerned, and the other a combination of the two.

“Any attempt would be incredibly unwise,” said Sybyll.

“If we tried something here, we’d just end up dead,” said Seira. “The only way to stop this is to cut off the head. Stop Medusuub.”

Galen swallowed a heavy breath, but nodded. “How long do you think it will be until they start attacking?”

“It’s impossible to say. If they keep up this pace, they’ll make it to potential targets by tomorrow. But we don’t know their orders. They may only be going to watch, or meet up with other monsters.” Seira’s gaze turned to drive straight into Galen’s eyes. “Second guessing anything here would be hazardous at best. Trying to be a hero would only be worse.”

His nostrils flared as a dark frown threatened to envelop his face, but he held it down. Seira was just being rational about this. With their resources, there just wasn’t anything to be done about an army. They were after Medusuub, that was what mattered. That’s what he had to tell himself, even if it didn’t calm the churning in his stomach.

After a couple more minutes, the army was long gone. Seira kept everyone huddled in the bushes until the last trace of their march faded from her hearing. Once hearing it was okay to leave, Galen burst out, giving his back a good stretch and trying to flush the scent of those bushes from his nose. It wasn’t that they smelled awful, but several minutes of such a powerful scent was enough to make him hate it. He ended up grabbing a piece of bark off the ground and shoving it up against his face, but the hasty action unfortunately led him to breathing in some dust. Hacking, he steadied himself on a nearby tree, his throat rumbling and tearing up. At least that smell was no longer lodged in his nose.

On recovering, he noticed the rest of the group wasn’t quite themselves. Seira was staring at him, cocky-eyed and grinning from ear to ear, Sybyll stood just outside the bush they were in a moment ago, not facing Galen, but turned toward him enough he could catch the hint of a smile on her face. Mino was outright laughing.

“It smelled really strong, okay? I couldn’t stand it any more.”

“And who do you think you’re talking to? My nose is more powerful than yours, yet I’m just fine,” said Seira, voice dripping with smarm.

“You’re probably used to it or something!” His shoulders went slack as he turned to Mino. “Oh, c’mon cut me some slack. It wasn’t like I meant to choke!”

“Just… how you jumped out of the bush like you were on fire or something… then ripping that bark off the tree… I thought you were going to eat it!” said Mino.

“Well excuse me for lacking a little grace every now and then.” Rolling his eyes, he started back toward the path.

“You’re talking as if you had some in the first place.”

He smacked his forehead. Even Sybyll? What had he done to deserve this?

The day ended without incident, though that didn’t keep everyone from staying on alert after the army passed through. Sybyll became even less talkative than before, hanging near the rear and keeping her keen eyes and ears on their sides and back. Seira’s ears constantly twitched, capturing Galen’s attention with their hypnotic little jerks. Were he a more daring man, he’d have tried tickling them, but something told him now wasn’t the time. Later. He’d always have time to tickle them later.

As the sun fell and heat was once again whisked away by a chill breeze, the group found shelter for the night in a odd rock cropping. While hardly ideal, it blocked most of the wind and would do the same for rain should a storm surprise them. Galen still shivered as he sat down and rested his back against the rock. His light clothing would become a serious issue before long if this weather kept up. He’d need some way to get clothing, whether he traded for something in Uuluth or found a way to make some money. If they made it to the monster lord’s castle and defeated Medusuub soon, then he could always go back to Nox.

Go back? Yes, he could go back. His journey was coming to an end, wasn’t it? Poseidon was only another day out, then onto Uuluth, then finally the monster lord’s castle. There was, at most, four days of travel, and assuming they stayed a day at each location… yeah, it wouldn’t be that long. Galen buried his face in his hands. He hadn’t even thought about this. What would happen when it was all over? Would Seira go back to being monster lord? Would Mino go off on her own like she’d always been? Would Sybyll stay with Toneruth? His eyes snuck upwards, glancing between the monsters he traveled with. Was this something they’d thought about as well? He couldn’t imagine Seira or Sybyll being so single-minded as to not think beyond the end of this journey. Seira would have plenty of things to deal with afterwards, at least. Mino probably saw this as another leg on her journey, just like Nox had been. Surely she was eager to explore the mainland again now that she wasn’t stuck on an island.

Closing his eyes, Galen leaned back against the rock, a cold, hard rest for his back. The ridges dug into his skin, but the harshness of the rock was more forgiving than that of the wind.

“Galen.”

He jolted off the rock, lurching forward to be stopped by a claw. The world before him blurred a mix of black, blue, and orange. Blinking, he looked down to the claw on his shoulder, then up to the monster who owned it. The scene behind her took Galen by surprise: a dark backdrop littered by leaves reflecting the warm glow of a fire. When had night fallen? With a pop, the fire in front of him stole Galen’s attention for a second before he looked back to Sybyll.

“H-hi, Sybyll. I guess I dozed off.”

“Indeed you did. It has been a few hours.” She gestured to the trees above them, pointing out where Seira lay sleeping on a branch, then to a tree on the far side of the fire which Mino had made her pillow. “The other two are asleep.”

A warmth grew in Galen’s stomach and spread to his face. “I must’ve been more tired than I thought.” He rubbed his shoulders on instinct, but the wind had since calmed and the fire was doing it’s job rather well. It shot a burst of sparks into the air as if acknowledging Galen’s thought.

“That is expected. We’ve hardly been traveling slow, and Seira doesn’t know the impact our pace has on a human.” Sybyll walked closer to the fire, throwing in a couple more chucks of wood before taking a seat facing perpendicular to Galen a few feet off.

The fading fire released another spray of sparks, a hundred floating sprites giving their life to the standing chill around them. 

“I have a question for you,” said Sybyll.

“Oh? What is it?”

She glanced over to Seira before asking, “What is it you wish to gain from this? What is your goal in being here?”

“Well,” Galen said, hugging his knees to his chest, “I wanted to go on an adventure. When I left Nox, I made a promise to the Kraken, then later I decided to help Seira. I’m trying to keep true to those. It’s what any person or monster would do in my situation.”

“True. But I think you misunderstood my question.” Her eyes, tinged with the orange glow of the fire, narrowed in on Galen’s. “I want to know what your motivations are. What you want from this.”

Galen cocked his head. “Isn’t that just to see my obligations met?”

“You decided you wanted to go on a journey for some reason. Maybe to see the continent, maybe to run from home, maybe out of some wild imagination, but something spurred you on, got you into all of this in the first place. Even after seeing what threats the world offers and the true depth of Seira’s ambitions, you have chosen to continue. You even brought Mino along for the trek. There is something more important than those obligations that pushes you forward.”

“I, um…” Galen scratched his head. She could be right, but he’d never looked at it that way. His decisions were always straightforward. He’d wanted to go on a journey for as long as he could remember. It might have started back when his father started telling him all those stories about adventurers and heroes, about lands and monsters far removed from Nox. That was probably it. Who wouldn’t want to have an adventure of their own after hearing all those tales? Then the encounter with the Kraken, well, he’d just wanted to start his adventure and negotiated with her a way to the mainland. Nothing more. Seira, though…

“Why do you want to know?” he asked.

“Because it is important, and because you said something today to make me wonder about you.”

Galen clutched his legs tigher. “What did I say?”

“You asked if there was a way for us to stop an army.”

He looked away from Sybyll and to the ground next to him. “Is that something you’d just naturally wonder, though? If you thought the army was going to kill people?”

“No, it is not.” She leaned back on her arms. “And it is not something the wielder of Toneruth should be thinking. It is within the dangerous territory of idealism, which carries on recklessness and lack of conviction. You are not foolish enough to misunderstand our position. We have no means to stop them, yet you voiced the question anyways.”

“I just…” His voice trailed off again. Weren’t these the sort of questions he was supposed to have an answer to?

“That is why I ask why you are here. Do you seek to help Seira because you think it the best way to stop a war? Or are you blindly charging into a situation without considering the players and circumstances, simply because you caught a glimpse of fame?”

“Fame?” His hands clasped together so tight his fingers went red. “You think I’m just trying to be famous?”

“I think I don’t know what you want. Hence the question. Do you think you are some hero that might save everyone you meet? Are you so selfless to have no life of your own?”

“Well, it, uh, it doesn’t hurt to at least try to help people!”

Her eyes grew so cold he feared she might extinguish the fire. “Yes, it does. There is always a cost for our actions.”

Before he knew it, Galen’s hands were in fists. “You sound just like my--“

The last word caught in his throat and he swallowed it back down. Was that it? Were his motivations truly so simple?

Galen stared at the fire as if trying to make sense of it, like the licks of flame and deep orange glow would drift in to some sort of pattern if he watched it long enough. Sybyll watched him with the same sort of interest.

“If I answer your question, will you answer one of mine?”

Sybyll’s eyebrow twitched. “What sort of question would you ask me?”

“I want to know about you. Long before you met me. I want to know what your childhood was like, where you lived, who your parents were.”

She paused, her claw subtly moving to her inner thigh. Galen had been watching for it.

“If it is necessary to get my answer, then yes.”

**Chapter 31**

“I left Nox because I wanted something more exciting. My dad had always told me stories about lands across the sea, monsters, soldiers, and heroes. He told me about people with dreams of saving the world, or finding a lost loved one, or coming home to their village to see their families again. I tried to have adventures on the island, some with friends, some by myself, but they were never enough. They were always short and I never got the feeling I’d been searching for. Never felt really accomplished or proud of myself. It was boring on Nox, and the only way to find anything interesting was to leave. No one had left Nox for thirty years, but I thought with everything I’d learned from my father’s stories, a good sword, and a lot of hope, I’d be the first one to make it out.”

Galen sat up, switching to a cross-legged position, and laid his arms over his legs. Heat leaked from the fire before him, soaking into his legs the most, though he could feel it’s pressure on his chest and face as well. His eyes watched the tips of the fire, too bright to stare directly into, trying to find familiar shapes in the flickering flame. Sybyll kept quiet as he explained, attention always on his face, as if he were giving information which could save her life. He imagined her ears twitching like Seira’s, even though they remained still. A breeze kicked up, tossing the fire from Galen’s gaze and sending a shiver down his spine. The night still saw fit to remind him of the chill he took shelter from.

“So you’re here for the excitement? Have you not already found enough of it?”

Galen smiled to himself. “Yeah, I’ve found plenty, and I don’t know how much more I care for, but I’ve found more reasons to continue. I think if I hadn’t, I might’ve stopped back in Fullsburg.” His eyes sharpened. “I need strength. If I went home now, I’d never be able to recover. Back on Nox, we didn’t really have things easy, but life wasn’t so bad, either. There was safety in the cycle of seasons, in how each year was predictable. There are practically no monsters on Nox, and none that tried to interfere with our village. There’s no armies, no great storms or any colossal act of nature that might sweep everything away. I never realized how secure, how strong I felt there.” He paused, taking a deep breath and blowing it out like he might push the flame away. “But here on the mainland, it took less than a day for me to face a problem I truly couldn’t overcome. I fought with Seira and she took me down without breaking a sweat. I didn’t really realize it then, but she could’ve drained me, then taken me away as a captive until she got bored, which might have not been for the rest of my life. Then the next day, I came across a trio of lamia who beat me within an inch of my life. The rest: the encounter with the orcs, the ordeal in Fullsburg, and everything after you already know about.” He finally met Sybyll’s gaze. “Sybyll, I’ve never felt more helpless in my life than I do right now. The only power I can use kills whoever it touches, and I don’t even know how to use it properly. No matter how hard I fight, I end up losing in some way. Even with…” His next words caught, but after forcing a swallow, they came out. “Even with you guys. You and Seira used to talk, but now I feel like you’re suspicious of her. Seira still hates Mino and I don’t know if she ever won’t. Mino I feel like is too scared to really talk with anyone besides me, and even then, I can’t tell if she is angry with me or not. I’ve completely lost control of everything. Even myself, sometimes.”

“And you want that control back?”

“At this point, I don’t even think I need control. I just want to feel like I have it.”

“Have you considered you may never obtain it? That you were raised with a blindfold, and now that it has been removed, you will never be able to unsee the things you have witnessed?”

His eyes turned to the ground for a moment. “More than once.” Warmth and a wave of tingling rose up his left arm, like his blood had begun to boil inside. When he looked at his arm in concern, he found his hand had curled into a fist, one clenched so hard it had become numb. “But I can’t stop,” he said, his voice raising. “I can’t spend a single moment doing anything other than moving forward with all my power. There are answers and solutions out there, I just need to work for them.”

“I see.” Sybyll clasped her hands together and rested her head in such a fashion it looked like she was kissing them. A log collapsed in the fire, throwing a fresh salvo of sparks into the air that lit up in Sybyll’s eyes like a hundred fireflies. Galen rubbed his leg where the heat had almost become too much. He didn’t pull back, however, preferring an uncomfortable heat over a piercing cold.

Sybyll’s silence began to nag at him. “Well?”

“What is it?”

“What do you think? You asked that question to make some kind of judgement about me, right?”

Her mouth tilted, as if she was considering a smirk. “In matters such as this, I do not think one can decide whether there is a ‘good’ or ‘bad’ answer. Your motivations simply are.” She raised an eyebrow. “And I believe any decision I might make would have no effect on your actions in the end.”

“Heh.” Galen scratched the back of his neck. “I guess so.”

“As it should be.”

“Okay!” Galen landed a hand on his knee with a smack. “It’s your turn.”

“Ah.” Her hands dropped to the ground. “My story.”

“Yup.” Straightening his back, Galen leaned forward. He hadn’t forgotten what Cea had told him as they parted, but he found he wanted to hear this more for himself than anything.

“I am afraid I might disappoint in certain areas.” Her eyes narrowed. “It has been… a very long time since my childhood. I do not remember many things.”

“Then just what you can remember. What’s important.”

“I--“ She paused, her mouth hanging open, as if some last ounce of resistance was still telling her to stop. “I was born in a village of entirely lizardmen in the floodplains far north of Fullsburg. For your reference, about another day’s journey north of where we met Cea.”

“Aww, we shoulda stopped by there!”

Sybyll shook her head. “Even if there are remnants of the village, everyone living there would have departed across the Great Blue Divide many years ago.”

“But don’t you want to see your childhood home again at all? Even if no one is there? There’s got to be some value in that.”

“I do not see it.” She held up a hand to stop Galen’s protest. “Let us not digress. You wanted to hear about my younger years, correct?”

He grumbled an agreement.

“Communities of lizardmen have always--ah, I suppose I don’t have the authority to make that statement any more. Communities of lizardmen DID always segregate themselves from humans and other species. It was not uncommon for lizardmen to live with their mates, but human males were often minor contributors to the community. In many cases, a lizardman taking a mate would live away from the village or leave her mate behind. While lizardmen are generally cautious to appraise a mate before copulating, that did not mean a fondness or other strong attachment would follow.

“I have some impression of how human children spend their early years, and I do not believe mine were terribly different. My mother was strict but not unreasonable, even if I gave her reason to be.” Sybyll cleared her throat. “As I told you when we first met, I was a touch rebellious. Callous in many things. All lizardmen were taught to fight, not only to protect themselves, but the community as well. I paid attention only as far as it served me, opting for a more haphazard style of fighting. I learned proper discipline later. My preferred places to… play were the harvest fields and among the floodplains, especially after the river had just receded. I enjoyed the mud. I think.”

Galen nodded, leaning further forward, awaiting the continuation of Sybyll’s story, but all she did was turn to him and say, “That is most of what I can remember.”

He gaped. “What? Really?”

“It was a very, very long time ago.”

“C’mon, SOMEthing else must’ve happened! Something important!”

“The were the blacksmith and mages that came to search for a proper candidate for Tellus, but I told you that story already.”

Galen scrunched up his face. He knew there was more; Cea had told him as much. ‘Her greatest contradiction,’ that item she kept tucked away under her armor, had to have a story behind it. He’d been hoping Sybyll would come forth with it on her own, but even now she remained silent. What was she hiding and did Galen have the authority to force it out of her? Rubbing under his nose, he kept looking between Sybyll and the fire. He had to decide. Let he hide behind silence, continue the trek carrying that weight by herself, remain in the safety of solitude, and come forward when it suited her, or spill her precious memories before him, perhaps hating him for it, but also perhaps gaining something else. Eh, what was he thinking? Of course he’d have to bring it up. He’d never be able to live with the silence.

Now if he could just nail subtlety.

“I noticed you touch your thigh when I asked about your childhood. And that’s not the first time I’ve seen you do it. Is there a scar there? Something else?” He kept his face as straight as possible.

The intensity of Sybyll’s stare could’ve knocked a lesser man down. From the way her claws squeezed and her muscled tightened, Galen could tell she had no expected that. Or, at least, had not been ready for it. “It’s--it’s not a scar.”

“Then what is it?”

“Did Cea tell you about it?”

Galen flinched. So much for subtlety. “It doesn’t matter, does it? You said you’d tell me about your younger years, and if that’s part of it, then you gotta tell me.”

Her head lowered, gently lowering her gaze to the object her claw now covered. The way she stared at it, Galen expected the thing to strike at her. Could it be a weapon of some sort? A painful reminder of someone she lost? A diary, even?

A great breath filled her lungs, puffing out her chest like she was trying to swallow all the air in the world, then drifted out between her lips in a loud, drawn-out sigh. Her fingers played with the object, scratching through her armor. Her other claw began tapping against the ground with a ticking barely loud enough to hear over the popping, dying fire. For what felt like hours she stared at it, expression threatening to change but never following through. Galen kept silent, opting to watch instead. He’d put enough pressure on her; she could come forward with her story when ready. Only when his patience begin to waver did she slip her claw under her armor and withdraw the object.

Galen’s eyes widened with anticipation. Her claw held the item gently, like it might shatter if she squeezed too hard. It was difficult to make out in the weak orange light of the fire, but Sybyll extended it toward Galen as far as her arm would go, allowing him to begin to make out the details. He dared not touch it himself. The first thing he noticed, quite obvious even in the light, was the gold glint that seemed to follow his eyes, no matter the angle he looked at it from. It fit easily in Sybyll’s grasp, as large as Galen’s palm but half as thick as his pinkie. Grooves ran from the center to the edge of it’s circular shape, and in the center a detailed etching of a lizardman’s head, facing Galen’s right. Above and below the engraving was writing, but he couldn’t make it out. Had he better light, he might be able to soak in the craftsmanship and skill to make such a thing, and had he not felt as if he was staring right through Sybyll’s soul, he might have the bravery to dare to ask to do so.

“Is that gold?”

“Yes. A fairly pure grade, too.”

Galen’s mouth hung open. That much gold could buy, well, more than he could imagine! Years of food, a enormous boat, heck, maybe even part of a city! And Sybyll had been hiding it under her armor this entire time! He unconsciously rubbed his chest right beneath his neck. How much did it mean to her that she would never sell it?

“It’s amazing. Absolutely incredible. How did you get it?”

“I earned it.” She withdrew the object, closing her fingers around it so Galen could no longer see it, and stared into her hand. “It is a medal. An award for what the community felt was an exemplary deed. I was not the only one to receive one during my time with the village, but the awarding of such a thing as this was exceedingly rare.”

“And what did you do?”

Her fingers grazed over the engraved side of the medal. “I said I enjoyed spending my time in the floodplains, didn’t I? I enjoyed the mud most of all, and it was best during or immediately following rain. The more rain, the better… but after so much rain, the river would begin to flood. I knew this and understood the risks, as did everyone else in the village. Such a thing was made abundantly clear to everyone, and my mother, knowing my rash habits, was sure to warn me.

“One day during my adolescence, amongst a heavy, relentless rain, I was cavorting about in the floodplains. The river had indeed begun to flood, but I was sure of it’s course and kept my safe distance. This did not stop me from getting as close as I possibly could, however, and as I walked the river’s edge I came across a pair of lizardmen in dire straits. They had been on the far side of the river, likely checking crops or some other such duty, and had been caught by the rapidly-rising river. They attempted to cross where they thought it was safe, but had been swept away and were currently trapped on a log lodged between rocks. Their sanctuary lay almost mid-river, and with the rain as heavy as it was, soon would be swept away.” Sybyll glanced to Galen. “I had no time to return to the village for help or supplies. I had to make a decision and act straight away.”

Galen covered his mouth, his face betraying his interest. As horrible as the story sounded, his curiosity hungered for more.

“Lizardmen are, in general, fantastic swimmers. Both myself and the stranded pair could swim, but our muscles were nothing to the raging current. Swimming out to them would only put me in the same situation or worse. However, a short ways upstream were a boat and some rudimentary supplies--the most important of which was rope. I hastily fetched the rope, anchored it the best I could, then tied the other end to my waist. I gave myself just enough slack to make it out to them. However, with the strength of the river and the weight of a lizardman, it would not be safe to take more than one lizardman across at at time.”

“Oh no.” Galen couldbn’t keep the words to himself.

Sybyll gave a slight nod in recognition. “One of the lizardmen was very old. I did not know her age, but she explained that she should be the second one to save, as the other was much younger. Not too far from my own age at the time, in fact. A youth I’d had encounters with before, but we were hardly friends, and our interactions lacked the politeness to even call us rivals. The youth had begun to protest, but the elder silenced her. I’d already begun my swim across, anyways. There was no time to allow for pride. As I expected, the current swept me up in no time at all, but I had begun my swim a fair amount upstream from the stranded lizardmen, and the momentum from the dive in gave me just enough forward speed to make it directly upstream of the lizardmen. As I approached their place, I opened my arms and allowed the younger one to jump toward them.

“At that precise moment, three things happened. The force of her jump knocked the log loose, the rope pulled taut, and, with the elder’s foothold gone, she leapt forward into the river as well. Within my reach.” Her speaking slowed, each word coming out as precise and punctual as a hammer falling on a nail. “I was given a choice. I could rescue the younger one, almost an enemy of mine, as had been planned, I could rescue the elder, or I could attempt to rescue both. The rope seemed rather strong; I had only told them one at a time for safety. It might have no trouble with three lizardmen at once.

“What do you think I did?”

The question came so suddenly Galen’s mouth clamped shut. “What I think? Well…” Biting his lower lip, he sized Sybyll up. Pride never seemed to be a problem with her, so she’d certainly have no issue rescuing the younger one. As far as rescuing one or both, well, she often played rather safe than sorry. When he thought about it, only rescuing one was the more prudent choice too. Why risk two lives for one? “I guess you would only rescue the younger one.”

“So I did.” Her hands went slack and she tore her eyes off the medal. “You are correct. I watched the elder get swept away in the current. The rope held, even as much as the river punished it, and guided me and the other lizardman to shore. We returned to the village to report what had happened, saying nothing to each other about the incident until several days later when I was presented with the medal and a thank you from the one I had saved. I never asked if she was angry with me for failing to save the other lizardman, I never spoke with her about what thoughts and emotions might have been rushing through her head, about what it was like to watch another die when you felt there was something you could’ve done. We both understood the reality of the situation, I think. The harsh things life sometimes brings down upon us.” A dark smile grew in the shadows the fire threw upon her face. “I did find one thing humorous about the whole thing.”

Galen released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Humorous? What could’ve been humorous about that?”

“The inscription,” she said, holding up the medal again before reading it off. “’For duty and wont of self’. How true is that, I wonder?”


	3. Part 3

**Chapter 32**

“Woah!”

Galen stood as close to the edge as he dared, his face reflecting the boundless wonder coursing through his body. Beneath him lay miles and miles of cliffs along a harsh coastline. While he had explored plenty of the coast back on Nox, he had never seen anything like this.

“I told you there’d be a nice little surprise when we got here,” said Seira, walking up beside him.

He was too busy gorging his eyes to reply. The flat cliff faces before, hundred of feet wide, were not the dulled black or grey he was used to. Instead, they were a stark, resonating blue. With each wave that crashed in, the base of the cliffs shimmered like a thousand sapphires, their light scattering in the mist around them. As the cliffs went up, their color shifted lighter, though still a shade of blue that would dazzle even the ocean. Galen knew not how long he stared.

“So… where is it?” he said.

Three eyebrows raised at the question.

“That information trader told YOU where Poseidon was, didn’t she?” said Seira.

“You didn’t expect Poseidon to advertise her location to anyone who might wander near, did you?” said Sybyll.

“You can’t tell?” said Mino.

Averting his gaze, Galen grumbled, “Well, I was expecting it to be a little easier to find. No need to gang up on me.”

Seira chuckled to herself, then took another look over the cliff. After a moment, her brow furrowed, ridges forming between her eyes. “You can tell where she is, sl--Mino?”

“Y-yeah!” Mino spoke cautiously, then pointed to a darker area at the base of the cliffs. “It’s kinda hard to see, but there’s a lot of slime movement down there. I’d guess Poseidon would be nearby.”

“Are you sure?” Seira squinted harder. “I can’t really see anything.”

“I, umm, I guess I know what to look for.”

“Hmm.” Seira crossed her arms. “I suppose--“

“Let’s go!” yelled Galen, pumping a fist into the air. “Not gonna do anything standing around here.” Without waiting for further comment, he bounded off, following the cliff’s edge toward the spot Mino had pointed. An eager Mino was right behind him, though Seira took a moment to follow.

It wasn’t long before they found something. A trench--so sharp and sudden it looked like a giant sword cut it out of the cliff--offered a jagged but sure path down to the beach. Looking straight down the path, Galen could make out two figures at the base, definitely not human from their silhouettes.

“Guards,” said Sybyll, her gaze aligned with Galen’s. “A scylla and a crabgirl from the looks of it.” She turned to Galen. “This must lead to Poseidon. Subtle enough to miss if one wasn’t looking for it, but at the same time easy to guard. I do not know the area, but I would guess there is no safe way down the cliff face but for right here.”

He nodded. He’d been wondering how such a significant monster like Poseidon had been able to keep her location relatively hidden. Surely lots of people and monsters wanted to know where she was, whether to visit or attack her. While he couldn’t see any other soldiers or guards, once they made their way down there, there’d be more, assuming she was as powerful as he’d heard.

“Let’s head down,” he said, though he walked without the bounce his step had earlier.

He hadn’t realized exactly how strong the wind had been until the sides of the ravine were over his head. It was like someone had suddenly clamped their hands over his ears, sapping sound from the very air around him. The wind was little more than a whistle to his back. Keeping a hand on the ravine wall to his right, he walked down the rocky path toward the beach. Each step let out a soft crunch and the ground gave a little under his feet. Any sort of fighting down here would be on unsure footing, surely catching anyone trying to storm the place off-guard. Poseidon was very clever about choosing her lair.

“Halt,” said the scylla as they approached. She slithered atop a mass of tentacles toward them. Galen noted the spear in her hand as well. “What brings you here?”

He could make out the sounds of the rest of the group stopping behind him. In front of them, just outside the ravine, the howling wind beckoned. “I want to talk to Poseidon.”

“What for?” asked the scylla.

“I want to know why she’s preventing anyone from Nox to sail to the mainland, and ask if she might allow passage.”

The guards exchanged glances, quickly scanned his party, then looked back to him. “Who do you represent?”

Galen swallowed. Represent? “Me, I guess.” Sybyll jabbed him in the side with her elbow. “I’m from--Nox. I represent Nox.”

The guard took a moment to size him up before saying, “Very well. Poseidon will want to speak to you, then.” She stepped forward, brandishing her spear. “But know if you so much as reach for your weapon, you will be dead before it clears its sheath.”

He nodded without a word.

“Follow me.”

The crabgirl guard watched closely as everyone filed behind the scylla and followed her out of the ravine. When they hit the open beach, the wind made itself known again, hitting Galen with such force he stuttered in his step. A paw was on his shoulder instantly, keeping him steady, but when he looked up to Seira, he found her attention still forward, expression stoic with the severity of the situation. What would’ve been a smile faded quickly and Galen resumed his march.

To his left, the towering, massive wall of sharp cliffs, glistening with azure beauty, stood as a sentinel against the sea. The roaring, shifting ocean, spraying the air thick with its scent, encroached on the beach in constant waves as if to test how far it could reach. Galen’s nose burned at the ocean’s salt, making him wriggle it back and forth in an effort to keep from sneezing. The scylla in the lead showed no such vulnerability, and why should she? She’d probably lived here or in the sea her entire life. Looking back and forth, Galen found no other monsters on the beach. Surprising. Maybe they were very well-hidden?

He had a feeling he’d be seeing plenty of monsters soon enough, though.

The sound of footsteps in sand mixed with the whistle of wind and sloshing of waves. Galen watched the scylla, taking interest in how she walked with her tentacles. It was hard to follow with all eight--at least, he thought he counted eight--tentacles in constant motion, only four or so holding her up at any one time while the others pushed her forward. Instead of distinct footsteps, she left swirling lines behind her, like someone had run across the beach dragging a bunch of sticks behind them.

“There! See?”

Galen’s head spun around at Mino’s statement, finding her pointing at the cliffs. When he looked where she was pointing, he saw a mass of shifting, squirming blobs, moving almost like the surface of the sea, but on the cliff side, instead. That must’ve been what she saw earlier. Huh. If he hadn’t been looking for it, he never would’ve noticed, maybe not even at this distance. The sea spray kept the nearby cliffs wet and water was constantly flowing down their blue faces. 

So enamored was he in the flow upon the cliff that he almost ran into the scylla. She’d stopped near the cliff, waiting for the group to catch up.

“From hence we are entering Poseidon’s dwelling. You will show respect. Do not disturb anything while you are here.”

With that, she waved a hand at the cliff, and the spot she waved at shimmered, then disappeared. Galen gasped and heard Mino do the same right next to him. The entrance had been hidden by magic.

“Woah.”

“You act like you’ve never seen magic before,” said Seira, smirking.

“Hey! It doesn’t have to be original to be cool! And I’ve never seen this kind of magic before.”

She shrugged. “If you can think it up, magic can probably do it. Now come on, I don’t want to spend all my time here waiting for you to get over yourself.” Grabbing Galen’s shoulder, she dragged him along inside the newly-revealed cave.

The cave quickly opened up to a massive cavern, one so tall Galen was surprised it fit inside the cliffs. The moment he could swallow the breadth of the cavern his eyes soaked in more detail. Spread out along and built into the walls of the cavern were smaller buildings, likely houses from the looks of them, with just enough room to fit a small family. Away from the walls were larger buildings, maybe shops or meeting halls, and straight down the middle laid a wide path, clearly marked with stones so pale they seemed to glow. At the end of this path sat the most grand building in the cavern, reaching from the floor to the ceiling and covered in intricate carvings of mermaids, scylla, slimes, and other aquatic monsters. The gaps in the carvings made for windows into the main cavern, through which Galen could see patrolling guards. Though hardly bustling, Galen could make out activity in the houses, flickering lights in the windows, a couple monsters traveling between buildings, going about their business.

Poseidon’s domain was a village.

“What did I JUST say?”

Galen was yanked out of his ogling by a paw on his shoulder, causing him to nearly fall on his face before stumbling forward to regain his balance. Throwing a glare at Seira, he fell back into pace behind the scylla.

“You can’t tell me this isn’t worth at least a little staring!” he said, gesturing to the cavern.

“It’s neat, but not THAT neat. I’ve seen more interesting things before.”

“Really? Like what?”

She rolled her eyes. “For one, the monster lord’s castle. The king’s castle outside Uuluth isn’t lacking, either.”

“Well,” he said, soaking in the detail of the carvings as they approached, “just because those things are neat doesn’t mean this can’t be, too.”

Seira scratched her head, the beginnings of a growl rumbling in her throat. “Whatever.”

Galen pumped a fist. “I’m totally right.”

“Keep gloating and you’ll wish you weren’t.”

Clamping his mouth shut, Galen turned away from Seira. She could keep her grumpiness to herself.

The closer they came to the magnificent building at the end of the cavern, the more eyes he found on their little group. While he could see some of the observers--a couple mermaids, a slime, a scylla--he had the feeling there were many more within their homes or other buildings. Poseidon probably didn’t get many visitors. At least, not many human visitors. He straightened his back and forced his gaze back to the carvings in an attempt to take his mind off it, but now that it had come to his attention, there was no dislodging the thought he didn’t belong.

He stuck a hand down the back of his shirt, trying to give his back some air. His hand came away damp with sweat, and staring at his hand, he found he had no idea what he was going to say to Poseidon. He knew what he was here for, of course, but never thought about how to put it to words. Poseidon was an old, wise, powerful being of the sea, with experience beyond his imagination and probably a thousand more important matters to attend to than what some random human from far away had to say. What if he offended her? What if she had some hatred of humans? Galen crossed his arms, holding them tight to his chest. Why had they allowed him in here, anyways? After hearing he was from Nox, the guard let him through without trouble. Was there something special about Nox? Did it have to do with the blockade?

“Kid.”

Galen’s head snapped up, finding the scylla stopped just in front of a pair of grand doors, engraved with similar monsters to what he’d seen from far away.

“This is Poseidon’s throne. You will be respectful. You will be courteous. You will speak only when spoken to, and when she asks a question, you will answer. As her guests, no harm will come to you while you are here unless you revoke that privilege. She is a busy monster, so I suggest you take no more of her time than necessary. Do you understand?”

“Y-yes.” Part of him wanted to turn around and leave. Come back with a plan, maybe find some confidence along the way. He knew, however, that if he turned back now, he’d never muster the courage to return. Besides, adventurers didn’t run from a little fear.

“Very well.” The scylla opened the one of doors, exerting visible effort in doing so. It groaned and scraped against the ground as it swung open. Holding the door, the scylla waved them inside. “I will return to my post. Poseidon is just ahead.”

Galen timidly nodded. He tried taking his steps as casual as possible, but couldn’t help but feel they ended up more stiff and fake than he meant. The footsteps of Seira, Sybyll, and Mino rang out behind him, but he didn’t want to look back. They might not like what they saw on his face, and as the leader, he had to appear confident to them.

Torches lit a single passage before them, as wide as some of the houses Galen had seen outside and the ceiling so high up the light from the torches hardly touched it. Pillars lined a central walkway, guards posted next to each. Some kept their eyes forward, passive but intimidating, while others had begun to watch Galen. Every surface was the same brazen blue he’d seen on the cliff walls outside, like the ocean itself had stained the rock from which the palace had been built. A palace; that’s what this was. Sure, the guards didn’t use the word, but for its size and splendor, it could not be anything less.

Galen swallowed. Maybe he’d been underestimating when he said ‘a little’ fear.

Footsteps echoed throughout the chamber as he and his companions neared the throne. Four torch stands, all at different heights, illuminated the great seat and the monster upon it. While Galen recognized many of the monster’s characteristics, he had never seen them all together. She was closest to the Kraken, but her skin didn’t share the same shade of skin as her tentacles. Though the Kraken was one of the larger monsters Galen had encountered, Poseidon was larger still. He’d wanted to tell himself that the throne added some to her height, but if he was honest with himself, it probably detracted. He tried counting the number of tentacles beneath her human half, but couldn’t keep count through their constant, liquid movement. Some hid others, and some seemed larger than others as well. At least five were as thick as Galen himself and certainly longer. Others weren’t much thicker than his arm, but splayed out many feet beyond the larger ones. From her waist scattered an explosion of red, solid at first but devolving into splotches the further Galen’s gaze went down her tentacles, eventually replaced entirely by a pale blue.

His eyes were then drawn upward toward her human skin--a slight shade of brown unblemished by scar or tattoo. Due to her size and the breadth of the writing mass of tentacles beneath her, her hips held an impressive width, curving upward to a smooth, flat stomach. A slick covering, maybe a natural oil, reflected the flickering torches around her. When Galen’s inspection finally reached her face, he froze in his spot, crippled by a realization quite obvious to anyone else.

She could she him, too.

The sight before him was a feast which his eyes could not consume fast enough. Her eyes laid in stark opposition to Seira’s; where Seira’s were striking and vibrant in a blazing red, Poseidon’s gaze seized his heart and held it with a cerulean which put even the ocean to shame. Galen saw no severity or mischief in her face, but a brutal intensity that required the full of his attention. Round cheeks flowed gently into her jawline, a small smile upon rusty-red lips forming dimples he would call cute had her presence not screamed magnificence. A fiery blanket of hair reached down to her nipples, waving about with each subtle movement of her head. Only when she raised a hand to point at Galen did he snap out of his trance.

“What brings you to my realm, adventurer?”

Galen blushed, immediately lowering his head. Should he bow? Kneel? She was sort of a queen, wasn’t she? He ran his fingers over his palms, finding them smothered in sweat. “I, uh, uhh, I’m not really an adventurer, ma’am. Miss. Poseidon. Sorry.”

Whether she frowned, smiled, scoffed or shrugged at his response, Galen couldn’t tell. His stare was fixed upon the ground before her.

“What shall I call you then? A lost traveler? A boy? A monster by another name?” If he had dared to make a presumption, he might say her voice carried a touch of playfulness.

“J-just Galen, ma’am. A traveler.”

“Then I would have you call me Poseidon, and answer my first question.”

He risked a glance upward. Was she upset with him already? Her face revealed nothing but that cursory smile he’d seen before.

“I’m f-from Nox, Poseidon. I was asked--I told someone I would come here t-to find something out a-and maybe argue on h-her behalf.”

“Did you? And who might this person be?” Five fingers tapped on an armrest, one at a time.

“Not person, Poseidon. Monster.” Gathering all the strength he could, Galen raised his head. Poseidon may have still held his heart in a cold, solemn grip, but there was more to him than heart. “The Kraken, who patrolled the seas near Nox.”

“The Kraken asked you for help?” Her head tilted to the left the tiniest amount. “She must’ve been in quite the spot to ask someone, especially a human, for help.”

“I-I guess she was.”

Silence hung in the air a moment, Poseidon staring down at Galen expectantly.

“When I say ‘she must’ve been in quite the spot’, I am saying I do not believe you, and it is to you to convince me otherwise.”

“Oh. It is?” Galen scratched the back of his head. “Uhhh…” How was he to say it without offending her? “She was stuck when I met her. She couldn’t leave where she was, but she wanted to.”

“And where did you meet her?”

He wracked his brain trying to come up with another clever response, but he was spent. Thoughts spilled from his head without ever reaching his mouth. “On the way to the mainland. From Nox.”

“Ah.” She leaned back in her throne. “So she was preventing boats from making it to the mainland as I ordered. Tell me then, Galen,” she said, putting emphasis on his name, “how did you make it past her? Did you harm one of my subjects?”

“I… convinced her to let me pass.”

Poseidon raised an eyebrow. “Forgive me for not taking you as someone who possesses a way with words. How might you have changed her mind?”

Sucking in both his lips, Galen rasied his head. “I said I’m come here and argue on her behalf in exchange for passage.”

Poseidon regarded his tertiary courage, her eyes flickering over his frail form before waving his reply off. “Argue on her behalf?” A corner of her mouth curled upward. “She is awfully bored, isn’t she?”

He nodded. “I want to know why you aren’t letting ships from Nox travel to the mainland, and request that allow them once again.”

Several of her tentacles shifted as Poseidon sat up, leaning toward Galen. “An expected question, given your place of origin. I disallowed passage from Nox to the mainland because Medusuub convinced me it was prudent.”

Galen’s eyes widened. He could practically hear Seira’s ears twitching like mad behind him. “Medusuub?”

“Of course. Does it not make sense that I collaborate with the current monster lord? Besides, even if she had not been a monster of station, I likely would’ve blockaded Nox anyways. Her arguments were sound.”

“What possible arguments could she have for cutting off Nox?”

Crossing her arms, Poseidon lifted her chin to look down at Galen. “You truly cannot guess? Or is that ignorance I see in your eyes? Fitting, perhaps. But it was not only Nox I cut off.”

“Not only Nox?” He took a small step forward, leaving most of his fear behind. Curiosity and indignance had taken the reigns.

“Nox is only one of many islands off the south shore of the mainland. Almost all that could be populated, were, about… hmm, thirty years ago now? You would know better than I, of course.”

“And that’s how long the blockade’s been in place!”

“It is no coincidence the village on Nox was established at around the same time.”

Galen’s head was spinning. He squeezed his left shoulder, once against wreathed in a fiery pain. His father had told him almost everyone in the village had come there from the mainland thirty years ago at the same time. He’d said they were pilgrims, searching for a new place to live free of monsters and the other brutalities of the mainland. For some reason, at the same time, Medusuub had decided that they should be stranded there.

Why was a simple group of pilgrims so important? And why had he never heard of the settlements on the other islands?

“It seems some of this is new to you.”

“Yes!” he blurted, immediately stepping back. Was it that his father--no, the entire village--thought it wasn’t important enough to tell him why Poseidon may have stranded them? Or did they have other motivations? Galen was one of them, wasn’t he? Why keep such a secret?

“Shall I tell you why Nox has been kept isolated for so long?”

He searched her eyes for a trace a deceit, but found none. All he saw was curiosity with a touch of… something else. Was it amusement? Concern? What even were her motivations in this? So many questions barraged Galen he couldn’t come up with one to ask, or even figure if Poseidon was the one to be asking. As an influential monster, her interests lay with her kind, not humans, and from the sound of it, she had no fondness of the humans from Nox. His left hand curled to a fist, still damp from the sweat of fear. If only his father was here. He would know the answers to Galen’s questions. Surely his father would talk to him about it if he returned home.

Yet they hadn’t told him anything of this supposed significance of Nox or the people living on it, and Poseidon was offering that information on their first meeting. And how was he to return home without fulfilling his promise to the Kraken? It wasn’t her fault he’d been left in the dark, or for any of this, really. Besides, Poseidon could be deceiving him. He had no way to verify what she said about Nox was true.

He jumped when he felt a cold touch on the shoulder than burned so much. Turning his head, he found Mino resting a hand on him, concern creasing a face he so often saw free of it.

“It’ll be fine, Galen,” she said.

He caught himself breathing far heavier than normal. Nodding to Mino, he took a deep breath, as if he might release all his worries with it. At the very least, it might help him feel better.

“Don’t fear words or the truth behind them,” she said. “Whatever you were or weren’t told, does it really matter? You know the people back on Nox better than Poseidon, better than anyone here. You know if they’re good people or not. Trust yourself, that much I’ve learned.”

He gave her another nod then turned to Poseidon. “Alright. Tell me.”

“Every man who left for the islands thirty years ago was a soldier. Not just front-line grunts, but officers and even some generals. A fleet of men who lived war and chose to rid themselves of it.”

“Then, the blockade…”

“Was to prevent them from returning to the battlefield once again, and to prevent the king from calling for their aid.”

Galen stared at the ground, his jaw hanging open. Soldiers, all of them. The village chief. His teachers. Men who harvested in the fields with him. His father, too. They seemed so peaceful. His father had always been so adverse to killing; yet he himself had made a life out of it. Is that why they all left the mainland? Because they were tired or it? Or scared? Galen had always wondered why his father had been so stringent on learning the sword on such a peaceful island as well. Was that because he worried for Galen? Or did he want Galen to become a solider like himself? Galen gritted his teeth. If he could just ask why!

In the side of his vision, he saw a crimson paw step forward. “If you want to keep those soldiers away from the mainland, does that mean you were planning on fighting humans once again? You know what happened last time monsters went to war with them!”

“Of course I know, Khertaleon.” She shook her head at Seira’s shock. “Oh, don’t be so surprised I recognize you. You share many of your mother’s features, especially that fiery glare of yours.”

He looked up to see Seira swallowing whatever words had been rising up her throat. Her voice came out timid. “You knew my mother that well?”

“Yes, I did.” Poseidon’s eyes wandered around the room, as if taken by a fanciful memory. “Our first meeting was not much unlike this, in fact. A human, an arachne, a harpy, and Gladiel herself approached me with her plans and a request for support. I did not give it to her right away, but I did promise it should she defeat Buisuub.”

“And yet you did nothing when she was attacked!”

“I am a partner to the monster lord, not a servant. And my support was promised to her as the monster lord, not as a corpse.”

Seira took another step forward. “Do you feel no sense of loyalty?”

Poseidon’s eyes narrowed. “I suggest you hold your tongue before I decide to take offense to your accusations.”

Before Seira could shout her reply, Galen threw an arm up in front of her. “Please. Don’t.”

She snarled, but held her retort back. Galen lifted his head once again to face Poseidon. “Seira did mention one thing you didn’t answer. Why prevent human soldiers from returning to the mainland unless you saw a battle coming?”

“Until both humans and monsters know peace for many generations, battles will always be on the horizon. The fewer methods of war available to one side, however, the lower chances of such a battle breaking out.”

Galen cocked his head. “So Medusuub wanted to keep the soldiers on Nox to prevent fighting?”

“She told me as much. I do not presume to know her true motivations, however. She keeps much to herself.”

“Then why is she marching an army north?”

“You would have to ask her.”

Seira scoffed. “I saw this coming. She’s been gathering allies, building armies and armor, and, on top of it all, keeping secrets from you. She seeks to cripple her enemies before razing the land with war.”

“I would not make such a judgement without knowing more,” said Poseidon.

Seira opened her mouth to reply, but Poseidon raised a hand.

“However, her intentions may not matter at this point.” Her eyes locked onto Galen and she spoke her next words directly to him. “A small fleet of ships broke through my blockade three days ago. They reached Uuluth last night. I do not believe Medusuub is aware of this. None of my scouts have been able to deliver the message.”

“How did…?”

“The blockade was never meant to hold such a force. Its purpose was to discourage travel and communication. Should I have reinforced it, I would’ve done nothing more than started the very fight I wished to avoid. It is no coincidence no one who ever attempted to leave Nox died. I ordered no one be killed.”

Galen glanced at Seira. Her face was as flooded with shock as his. “If there’s a human force at Uuluth, and Medusuub’s army is headed that way, then there could be an actual battle!” he said.

“And I would not count on it ending there,” said Poseidon.

“Can’t you do anything? I mean, you have forces, don’t you?”

She somberly shook her head. “Unfortunately, that is exactly what prohibits me here. Any action I take will be interpreted as one with force behind it, whether I mean to fight or not. Even if I were to personally head to Uuluth to negotiate, there is little chance I would be heard, and Medusuub may take it as a sign of treachery. Should I travel directly to the monster lord, the humans will assume I have reinforced her army and seek to attack with it.”

“But you could convince her to retreat, couldn’t you?”

“Another gamble. As I said, I do not know her true motivations. Perhaps she anticipated this, perhaps not. But either way, it would take time to convince her, and time is sorely lacking. From my reports, the army will finish gathering by tomorrow, and is likely to attack the day after. Just getting to her would take a day, then I would need to make my plea, and assuming she changed her mind, the orders themselves would take hours to reach the army, assuming the monster delivering them isn’t killed on the way.” Poseidon clasped her hands together. “The king has not been ignorant to the movement of the monster lord’s army. He has soldiers watching her castle.”

“It’s possible, though!” Galen’s voice was on the verge of cracking.

“Possible, but it leaves another problem in its wake. How do you think the king will view monsters after such a close call? What’s to say he won’t want to take down the monster army himself?”

Everything was crumbling around him. He’d just left to go on an adventure, that’s all! He wanted stories to tell his father, something to make him proud! “I, I don’t--“

“Medusuub has sent the world of monsters on a collision course with the world of humans. If blood does not come of it, then fear and anger certainly will. The fragile truce between worlds is breaking.”

Galen’s legs shook, and he would've collapsed had Mino not rushed to grab him. His limbs turned to jelly, his eyes glazed over, staring at the ground with an emptiness only known by dead men. Humans and monsters were going to war again, and his father was already on the front lines. There was no Nox to go back to. Every man he knew back there was probably already in armor, ready to fight, and every woman scared for the lives of those they cared for most. Galen could see his mother trying to bake with shaking hands, his father looking outward with a grim face as he placed a helmet upon his head. All this, while Galen was playing at adventurer.

“But there is a way to stop it.”

Galen immediately jumped to his feet, clutching his hands into fists. Every last drop of hope bled into his question. “How?”

“One side must lose its leader, and the other side must be assured of its safety.”

Gears churned in Galen’s head as he considered the statement. “Then, you want Medusuub gone?”

Poseidon closed her eyes, a touch of that curious smile from before returning to her face. “I did not say that. But tell me, do you know of someone to replace the king? And how to do so without sending human society to chaos?”

“N-no.”

“Then your options are limited. Besides, I believe you have one with you who intended this from the beginning.”

Seira smirked. “It doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“So, if Seira takes Medusuub’s place and tells the king she won’t attack, we can avoid this war?”

Poseidon’s smile grew while Seira spat out a laugh. Galen’s face scrunched up in confusion as Seira slapped a paw on his shoulder.

“The king isn’t going to believe a single word from any monster’s mouth after this. Me telling him I don’t intend to attack would mean nothing to him. It’s going to take more.”

“W-what else is there?”

Seira turned to Poseidon, crossing her paws. “Something tells me you have this planned out.”

A pause laid silence heavy on the air between them. Poseidon’s smile vanished, in its place a grimace as cold as her eyes. She stood from the throne, moving toward Galen until he had to hurt his neck to look up at her.

“Medusuub must die, but something as simple as a sword to the heart will not be enough. She must die in a fashion so magnificent and grandiose that the king himself will know it the moment it happens, a method so powerful and resonant the citizens of men will shudder.”

Galen swallowed. He knew what she was getting at, why her eyes now moved to the sword hilt on his waist.

“You must unleash Toneruth, fill the sky with Scarlet Lightning, and create the second Scar of the World on her corpse.”

**Chapter 33**

Galen collapsed on his bed, eyes drifting to the cold stone ceiling above. Salty air, wandering in from the sea, slipped into his room beneath the silent, stalwart door. He wondered if he’d ever get the smell out of his nose. His hands flipped over to grip at the sheets, running along the fine patterns whatever seamstress had woven into them. His pack lay atop a dresser across the small room, his only company apart from the flickering candles. He should be thankful for Poseidon’s hospitality, but no cozy mattress, styled sheets, or oaken bedframes could ease his mind. As his body slowly sunk into the bed, he sighed, trying to count the innumerable specks and imperfections in the blue stone of the ceiling.

In his mind, he saw Poseidon towering over him, back in the throne room, clear as day.

“You must unleash Toneruth, fill the sky with Scarlet Lightning, and create the second Scar of the World on her corpse.”

He didn’t even know how to properly use Toneruth yet, much less cut through sky, sea and earth with the force Solvet had! Galen had blinked wordlessly at the monster standing over him, fighting every instinct to step back.

“I-I don’t know if I can,” he had said.

“You must, else we are doomed to know war again.” Then, to the entire group, she had said, “It will be dark soon, and I will not leave the safety of our futures to chance. You will rest here tonight, and on the morrow, you will continue your journey with all haste.”

She hadn’t allowed any protest after that, waving for guards to take them to their rooms. In the end, there wasn’t much reason to protest. Poseidon was correct about the time, and they would do good with a peaceful night’s sleep. Seira had disappeared off on her own as she always did, Sybyll retired to her room, and Mino had taken off, likely to meet with the other slimes nearby.

Galen rolled over onto his stomach. This felt much like the beginning of his journey, only without a momentum born of excitement and ignorance. He was alone once more, with nothing but the unknown before him, and unknown that loomed that much darker and taller now that he was aware of it. He understood why his father had been so set against him leaving; he’d been so obliviously blind to the dangers of the world and all the complexities and subtleties which came along with them. He cringed, remembering his first encounter with Seira. How he took up his sword and proudly declared his intentions like his opponent had any sort of obligation to show such reckless abandon respect. He’d been lucky Seira was one of the nice ones. Well, nicER ones.

“Dad, why didn’t you just tell me?”

The bed muffled his words, words only meant for himself. It wasn’t just the village’s past he wish he’d known, but everything about the mainland. About who the monster lord really was, about the tensions between man and monster, about war and peace, about the great cities and dark alleys. Sure, his father’s stories said something of it, but they were all so far removed from the truth they could’ve done harm just as easily as good, and his father had to have known that! Was his ignorance supposed to be some excuse to keep him home, on the island? Or was he so protective that he didn’t think Galen could handle the truth? Galen was going to have to grow up some day!

Two knocks, clear and concise, came from the door.

“Hello?” said Galen, shifting his head to face the door.

The knocker did not answer. Instead, the doorknob turned, revealing a mesh of soft, shuffling noises. When he saw the tentacles squirm past the door, his eyes lit up and he scrambled to sit up straight on the bed. Poseidon’s head came into view while he was in the middle of brushing himself off. Between the slithering mass of tentacles and the tall, sturdy woman atop it, she practically took up the entire room.

Her curt smile did little to help Galen’s blooming blush.

“P-Poseidon! Hi! Um, sorry, I didn’t expect--“

She cut him off with a raised hand. “It is alright, I did not come for formalities.” The way her frigid-blue eyes narrowed in on him sent a shiver up his spine. “I came because we must talk. Shall we walk.”

Her last words were phrased as a question, but spoken as a declaration. Galen had no time to respond before two sly tentacles coiled around his wrists and helped him off the bed, dragging him forward until he’d started walking on his own.

His chest burned and his forehead throbbed as if afire. Any blush had been long forgotten. His feet stepped lightly, as if disturbing the floor too much might anger Poseidon. He brought his shoulders in and clasped his hands together in front of him, keeping his frame and stride timid. Talking up to a magnificent monster on her throne was one thing, but talking to his host, alone, in a hallway cramped by her size and presence, nearly melted him to a puddle on the floor. Even how she carried herself was different, as if they were taking an afternoon stride on a road, without a single worry before or behind them. He could only guess as to her purpose.

“So, um, not that I’m unhappy you visited, but I’m unsure as to why. I didn’t--and still don’t--object to your plan.”

A calculating eye focused on Galen. “That is good to hear, but that is not why I have come. As I said before, I do not intend on leaving our futures to chance.” Her gaze returned to the hallway ahead of them. “I need to make sure you are someone who can carry out this task.”

Galen rubbed the back of his neck hard enough to turn skin red. A valid concern, one he had as well. Should he tell her or keep quiet? If she decided he wasn’t able, what would she do? Poseidon walked the line between helpful and obscure too well for him to come up with a safe answer, so he voiced the next thought that came to mind.

“How exactly are you planning on doing that?”

“You will find the answer at our destination. Come.”

She waved at him to follow, descending a flight of stairs with a grace Galen didn’t think possible with tentacles. They came to a hallway much like the last, just wide enough for Galen and Poseidon to walk side-by-side, oaken doors lining the walls, identical except in the ripples upon the wood. Several doors down, Poseidon stopped, bringing up a tentacle to stop Galen at the same time. He looked forward, but saw nothing out of the ordinary, then looked back to Poseidon.

“There,” she said, pointing to a door not ten steps away. “In there is a certain harpy, someone I have offered shelter to while she recovers.”

Galen’s brow furrowed. “And why are you showing me this?”

“Do you know any harpies, Galen?”

“No...” The word came out slow, as if he expected it to be the wrong answer.

“I think you do. Try to recall whom you have met.”

“I can’t--“ He took in a sharp breath, eyes stricken with languidness and his body twitching as if wincing from a blow. “I didn’t really know them, but there were two harpies.” His head sunk. “I killed them.”

“Did you?” Her thick voice hooked as if amused by the statement. “This specific harpy is a scout working for the monster lord. She came to me not a day ago, exhausted, bruised, and quite determined to relay what she had learned. It turns out she had been a part of a small group tasked with taking out a certain monster lord’s daughter, a manticore on the run who might still become a disruption to Medusuub’s plans. With one other harpy and a mothman, she raced to cut off this manticore on the route they suspected she’d be taking.” Her gaze remained steady on Galen’s animating face. “They encountered this manticore twice, once on the border of the Scorched Lands, once inside the Lands themselves, both times failing to kill the manticore, driven off by her companions.”

His mouth hung stupidly open, eyes blank as they stared at the door Poseidon had indicated. It wasn’t possible. Sybyll had told him Toneruth’s magic killed her! How could that harpy still be alive?

“I-I-I don’t know what to… is that really the harpy? W-why are you telling me this?”

Poseidon crossed her arms beneath her breasts, causing the waterfall of fiery hair to splash along her shoulders and flow inward over her chest. “Soon, before the moon falls for the night, she will leave to tell Medusuub of all she knows of you. She followed your group along the path here, and when she was certain of your destination, rushed ahead to inform me. She may not know your intentions after leaving her, but with her knowledge, Medusuub will probably figure out enough. She will put our plan in jeopardy by giving Medusuub time to prepare.” Poseidon’s eyes grew colder. “It is up to you to kill her now, while she sleeps, to prevent that.”

Galen had to work his jaw several times to get it functioning. “Bwah? Kill her? That doesn’t--“ He cut himself off, then lowered his voice. He didn’t want to wake the harpy. “Why tell me this now and not earlier when my group was still together? Why do you want me to kill her? Why can’t you, or one of your soldiers? Heck, anyone but me!”

She straightened her back, lifting up higher upon her tentacles. Or was that just Galen’s imagination? “Because you are the one who will strike with Toneruth, and if you cannot strike an ordinary opponent with an ordinary blow, then how are you to strike Medusuub with Toneruth’s greatest power? Besides, that harpy is your enemy, is she not?”

He threw up his hands. “Isn’t she yours, too? Why are you even offering her a place to stay, anyways?”

“I am still the monster lord’s associate. Her interests are mine, and by extension, that makes this harpy an associate of mine as well. I would not keep her from her duty.”

“Then why are you helping me?!”

“Because I believe the monster lord’s actions are irresponsible and reckless, and she should be replaced.” She lifted a finger. “But she has not been replaced, not yet, so I will still aid her where appropriate. Should I kill this scout now, and word reach Medusuub, I will be in a sore position if you fail to complete your task. The world of monsters will suffer for it; my forces and Medusuub’s splintered right upon the brink of war. Humanity could very well wipe us out, and I will not allow such a possibility.”

“So you won’t kill her because of… politics?”

She gave a slight nod.

“But you’ll allow someone else to kill her under your nose.”

The same nod.

Galen eyes wandered back to the door. A pawn. That’s all he was to Poseidon. She didn’t see a man, but a tool, one which she doubted the mettle of. Seira, Sybyll, Mino were probably all much the same. Here she tested if her pawn would jump when she asked it, strike when she ordered. Exactly how much of this situation did she foresee and how much of it was beyond her control?

Wrinkling his face with frustration, Galen glanced back and forth between the door and Poseidon. It would give him much pleasure to wave her off, throw her little test back in her face and return to his room. Did she think him blind enough not to see what she was doing, or did she want to see what he would do despite that knowledge? Regardless of her intentions, the facts were before him. If indeed the harpy was still alive, she would know what they’d been through, what their goals were, and when they would come. She’d know Ahdria had given them the key, know Galen had Toneruth, and Seira was coming to removed Medusuub from her throne. This was the only chance they had to kill the harpy. The only chance Galen had.

“If you are so unsure, why don’t you fetch one of your cohorts to do it for you? I imagine Khertaleon wouldn’t hesitate.”

“No! And her name is Seira!”

“It is Khertaleon as well, little human. Do not forget.”

Galen grimaced. Whether he killed the harpy himself or asked she be killed, it was the same thing, the same result. He wouldn’t have anyone carry this burden, not even Seira, who would gladly take it from him. The salty air wisping down the corridor thickened around him, as if it grew heavier with the weight of his thoughts. His right hand unconsciously went to his shoulder. This wasn’t the first time he’d held the harpy’s life in his hands. Before they’d entered the lands, Seira had been ready to strike the killing blow and he’d stopped her. Even when she had screamed at him his foolishness, he’d held his ground. For days she turned her back to him, and he understood exactly why. This, too, she would hold against him, should he let the harpy live. Was he ready to face that anger again? What did he know, really? Time and time again, the world had thrust upon him proof of his ignorance. How could he hold onto his reckless beliefs in light of what he’d learned? How many would die so he could keep his hands clean?

‘For duty and want of self.’

Sybyll’s voice echoed throughout his head, those words spoken in the same solemn tone as last night before the fire. Galen had his trial before him, and for needs beyond his own, he had to make his choice.

“I need a sword. The one I have won’t cut what I need to cut.” His voice didn’t carry it, but his arms trembled.

Poseidon produced a sword. Galen didn’t ask where from, only snatching it and walking toward the door. He paused with his hand over the doorknob, but gave himself only a moment. Quietly as he could, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Poseidon watched from the hallway, arms still crossed, appraising the young man as he disappeared into the room. Though his face drooped with the weight of the task, it was best he face this harshness now, rather than before the monster lord. Her face twitched. Memories of when Gladiel and her human companion were here had brought out her soft side, she supposed. The similarities were striking.

An unholy shriek exploded into the hallways, ringing through Poseidon’s ears and into her skull. A sleeping opponent and a bladed weapon did not turn Galen into an experienced assassin; his kill was neither silent nor quick. Still, from the pain born of that shriek, she could tell he had struck true enough. When a second shriek rang throughout the area, Poseidon’s face turned grim. Only death could follow.

Galen emerged from the room, sweating, panting, and holding the sword Poseidon had given him in one hand. Its edge had drank blood.

  
**

  
Shadow and gloom held the night, falling like rain over the beach. Galen’s hands dug through the sand, its coarse waterfalls flowing between his fingers. He’d kill for a rock, just one stupid rock, to throw into the ocean. Yet the beach was apathetic to his desires and offered nothing. Huffing, he stood up, hands on his hips, and started walking.

His steps were not the only ones.

Stopping, he hung his head. It must’ve been too much to ask for some time alone out here. Even running from the palace after… after that harpy, he couldn’t slip away from everyone.

The footsteps ended a few short of him.

“You are troubled,” a stark statement from an stoic voice which could only belong to Sybyll.

“A little, yeah.” He wasn’t going to even try to hide it from Sybyll. Too much of himself laid bare in the moonlight.

“Is it the mission that troubles you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

“If that is the case--“

He spun to face her. While he couldn’t tell it himself, his face had solidified with anger. “Sybyll, why did you follow me?”

She twisted her head a little to the side, keeping her eyes on him. “This is not like you.”

“I’m always like me. That’s what makes, ‘like me’, like me.” He slapped a hand to his chest, fighting the urge to squeeze his shoulder. The pain was beginning to flare up again.

“You know my meaning. Your troubles have not angered you before.”

“No, Sybyll, they really have, I just haven’t shown it.” He turned around, kicking at the sand as he walked. “Because this time is worse.”

“You do not know why your father never told you about his past. You do not understand why you are the one given this task.” Her tone deepened. “You do not know how you will carry it out.”

“That’s all pretty obvious.”

“I cannot help you will all these things, but,” she paused, taking a breath, “I do have experience with the second.”

Galen let his arms fall to his sides, closing his eyes as he let his head tilt back. That’s right. She had been given an extraordinary task, one she was still carrying out. One she might be fulfilling for as long as swords have a place in the world. “Then maybe you can tell me how my adventure turned into this.” He opened his eyes up to the glowing moon. “You know, if I had told the Galen that started this whole thing out that he’d get to go up against the monster lord and save the world, he’d be ecstatic.”

“But you are not?”

He opened his arms, presenting himself to her. “Take a look.”

Sand shuffling beneath her feet, she took a few steps forward, raising a claw to lay it gently on his chest. “This is a good thing, is it not?”

“What, my weariness?”

“No.” She withdrew her hand. “The change. The old you and the you that is before me: you would not want them to be the same, correct?”

“I like me.” He rubbed the spot she’d touched. “That’s why I’m me. So when I change, I lose something of myself. It happens so subtly, too. I’m worried I’m going to end up someone who I don’t want to be without even realizing it.”

Sybyll watched his eyes for a moment, thinking, then sat down. When Galen just stared at her, she pat the sand beside her. He shrugged, but sat without protest, finding the sand surprisingly cool under his rear.

“When I was young, before I ever met the blacksmith and the mages who would eventually tie me to Tellus, I was a rather… rambunctious lizardman. I would not pay attention when elders attempted to teach me history, or my parents attempted to teach me discipline. The only thing I gave any attention to what the blademaster who taught me the sword, but even then, only when it suited me.” She drew her sword, the one Galen had given her back in Mallus, a few inches free of its scabbard. “I wanted to play with the sword more than I wanted to respect it. When I sparred with my peers, my intention was to win with dazzle, to see their eyes and jaws drop open when I stood over them, victorious.” She slipped the sword back into the sheath with a click. “It would be fair to say I was something of an embarrassment to the village. But I was who I was, and I had no reservations about it.

“Now look at me. A thousand years and ten thousand trials later, I am a different monster entirely. My style is focused; precise as a needle slipping through cloth. I do not play tricks, I do not aim to impress. I move forward for duty, and begrudge no one for it. What do you think the me of my youth would think about this?”

Galen glanced at the bulge beneath her armor where that golden medal hid. “She’d probably be terrified of the idea of growing up to be you.”

Sybyll nodded. “And do you think I do not know this as well? There is such a great chasm of time and experience between my two selves that a stranger would not recognize one as the other. Yet I am content with the monster I have become, and I do not worry how I might change in the future.” She scooped up a handful of sand, letting it slip between her fingers as she watched. “We are the sum of the trials our pasts and the expectations of our futures. As we learn, we grow; as we fear, we cope.” Her eyes turned to Galen, glowing yellow against the night. “No one can control who you are but you--do not allow the fear of yourself to cripple who you might become. If you are to choose between hope and fear, I would choose hope. It lends itself to more worthy futures.”

“Nothing ever get to you, does it?”

She laid a claw on Galen’s shoulder. “A great many things ‘get to me’, Galen. Only through much practice have I learned to hide it. It is only by allowing such things to tremble my core can I progress.” Her claw gave a reassuring squeeze. “And when you emerge from tonight, you will find yourself that much further along your path.”

Tiny spikes lit all over Galen’s skin, like his entire body had fallen asleep. He fought to keep himself from fidgeting, focusing on the moon instead of the fire. “Do you remember the first monster you killed? Or the first person?”

Sybyll frowned. “No. It was far too long ago; my memory is not perfect. In fact, I do not think it will be long before the phases of my life begin to bleed together. Monsters were not meant to live this long.” She followed his gaze to the moon. “But it is easy to get too focused on the killing, to lose yourself for the sake of those who fall under your sword. What is important now is who I am and the choices I make.”

“But what about who they were? What choices they would’ve had if they’d gotten the chance to keep living?”

She raised a finger. “Do not forget: when there is a battle, there are always two stories, two lives, two paths converging. Some focus too much on their own; some, like you, focus too much on the other. Who is to say your story has any less right to continue? Their choices brought them to the battle, just as yours did.”

“And if they’re peaceful? If their decisions didn’t lead them to battle and it’s being thrust upon them instead?”

“Then why are you fighting?” Sybyll stood up, stretching a moment before offering a claw to Galen. He took it and she helped him up, brushing the sand off his back. “Take each situation as it comes to you. Do not think because you have acted in one fashion at one time, you must continue to do so for all situations that come after. There is no need to live in absolutes.”

Galen nodded, no longer finding trouble holding Sybyll’s gaze. His hand played across Toneruth’s hilt. “I still feel like I’m not ready for this whole thing with Medusuub and ‘saving the world’, but I think--“ he paused, swallowing, “--I think that I’m glad I’m the one doing it now.”

“And why is that?”

A smile flashed across his face, disappearing as quickly as it showed up. “Because I think I’ll do it right.”

The two started back to Poseidon’s cave, their mismatched footsteps crunching the sand underneath. Galen was starting to feel the pull of sleep, and he knew he’d need it for the day ahead.

Sybyll cleared her throat. “Last night, I asked you why you were here. I did so because I needed to know if you were suited and worthy of the knowledge I have yet to teach you. As of now, I have made my decision.

“When we reach Uuluth and Toneruth is whole once again, I will teach you how to strike with it using such power even the great demon will hear it. I will teach you how to cut out another Scar in the world.”

**Chapter 34**

Morning came with a knock.

“Hey, lazy-ass! We don’t have all day!”

Galen sat up in bed, blinking his dreariness away as best he could. The door yawned as it opened, letting an impatient Seira in the room. Galen struggled to get out of the bed, but the covers had gotten tangled in with his legs. Grumbling, he fought with the bed, a blush growing on his cheeks. Seira didn’t need to see this.

Now that she was, however, she had no qualms giving him trouble about it.

“Looks like if Medusuub puts up any more fight than a few bedsheets, we’re in trouble.”

“I just got up, okay?”

Finally freeing himself of the bed, Galen hopped to his feet, trying to quell the intense heat rising to his face. Taking a deep breath, he leaned over and started his morning routine.

“Really? Now?” Seira said, crossing her arms.

“Now’s the best time for it.” Galen grumbled. Especially after the day that was yesterday.

“Whatever. Poseidon wants to send her little errand boy and troupe off, so come down to the throne room when you’re done.”

Galen paused, looking up to Seira. “You don’t sound like you’re happy with that.”

“Oh, gee, am I that easy to read?” She shook her head. “I’m going to be the damn monster lord, Galen. I don’t like feeling like I’m dancing to another monster’s tune before I even sit on the throne.”

He shared in her grimace. Manipulation in ignorance was one thing, but manipulation you were fully aware of and unable to avoid? He’d rather yank out his teeth.

Seira left Galen to his routine, throwing a shout back at him from the hall to hurry up. He stopped his routine for a moment, sitting down and letting his hands fall into his lap.

Everything about this plan was so rushed. Sure, he knew they’d make it to the monster lord’s castle eventually, but that always seemed so far away, and he’d assumed they’d have more help. How were three monsters and a human supposed to storm a castle on their own? And then there was Toneruth. He laid a hand on its hilt, rubbing the end against his palm. He still didn’t have the slightest idea how to use it, much less cut another Scar in the world. Sybyll had told him she’d teach him, but how much could he possibly learn in a day or two? Because according to Poseidon, that’s about all the time they had. He wasn’t even that good with a sword in the first place!

His hand slid down the hilt, gripping and pulling the sword free. A broken edge stared at him, pathetic and fearsome at the same time. For he knew what happened with the red lightning came.

“And I’m supposed to save the world with you.”

Frowning, he slid it back in its sheath and finished his routine. It wasn’t the sword he doubted.

  
**

  
Poseidon wasn’t in the throne room as he expected. Rather, one of her soldiers was waiting to escort them.

“Apparently our all-important task isn’t so important as to send us off personally,” said Seira, putting her paws on her hips.

The soldier didn’t respond to Seira’s quip, instead gesturing for them to follow as he headed toward the door. Galen took one step to follow and was immediately ambushed by Mino. She latched onto his aching shoulder, smothering it in slime as she grinned.

“This place is so neat! The slime community has been here for almost a thousand years!”

“That is neat,” said Galen.

“Some of them even came here from across the Great Blue Divide, where I’m from!”

His walking pace slowed a moment. “You’re from across the Divide?”

“I didn’t tell you?” She frowned, thinking back. “Well, yes, I am. I lived in a village called Bhregof for a little while before crossing the Divide to come here.”

“I guess you’ll have to tell me about it someday.” While his words were for Mino, his attention was fixed on the soldier guiding them. The longer they followed, the more Galen wanted to know where they were going.

Once out of the palace, however, the soldier didn’t lead them back to the path they’d taken in. Their walk instead took them down a side path, winding through the rocky caverns of Poseidon’s domain, and ending at a surprisingly-full set of piers.

“Huh,” he said. He’d completely missed this place on the walk in. Several ships sat in dock, most fishing ships, but on the far end something much larger loomed over the area. It boasted three major sails, all tied up at the moment, a bow that went well over Galen’s head, and at least a dozen monsters and humans were attending to it in some fashion, whether loading, cleaning, or adjusting something. Galen didn’t know what to call it, other than ‘a really big ship’.

“Wow!” said Mino. “That’s a really big ship!”

He fought to suppress his grin, but couldn’t help himself. She wasn’t wrong.

He spied a few mermaids swimming beneath the docked ships. Some of them looked to be taking a leisurely swim while others were at work. Several other aquatic monsters lent their hands, tentacles, fins--whatever they had to offer--to help as well. Galen scratched his head. It would make sense Poseidon would have some sort of naval presence in both trade and force, and that most of her workers would be monsters, yet understanding it and witnessing it were two different things altogether. Instead of seeing men rush up and down the piers like back on Nox, mermaids would shuttle items through shallow water around the ships. Scylla would use their tentacles to grab things from the mermaids, lift it up to their arms, then shuffle away with the load. Crabgirls used their monstrous appendages to work the larger, heavier items with ease. Slimes flowed over the ships like water, picking up clutter as they moved. Amongst all this activity, waiting near one of the smaller ships, was a rather distinctive monster, towering over all the rest, her fiery red hair falling over her shoulders and those unmistakable tentacles squirming beneath her.

The soldier gave a short bow to the group, presenting them to Poseidon before leaving. The moment her eyes locked onto Galen, he felt his heart seize up. Just like yesterday. Her gaze had none of the playfulness, the confidence he remembered, but rather bore down on him with a heartless curiosity. He knew why.

“Thank you for joining me here,” she said.

Mino shied away at the greeting, but nodded along with Galen and Sybyll. Seira wasn’t so complacent.

“So why are we out here?” she said, tapping her foot.

Galen winced at her tone, but Poseidon took it in stride.

“You need to reach Medusuub within three days if you are to resolve this before the army is fully gathered. While such a journey would be possible across land within a two days, the current situation presents a problem. The army is gathering on the very land you would be traveling.”

Galen frowned, crossing his arms. Before he put much thought to the problem, however, his eyes narrowed on Poseidon. “Then the reason we’re here at the docks…”

A slight, sly smile grew on her face. “Indeed.” She gestured to the nearby boat. “I am offering you this.”

Galen inspected the the boat. It was smaller than the average fishing boat, but certainly larger than the tiny little Treasure which had taken him from Nox to the mainland so long ago. He sighed at the memory of it. Its life was short, but it carried him well.

The boat Poseidon was offering had just enough room for three monsters and a human, but size wasn’t the problem Galen had with it.

“Is that one sail going to be enough?” He thought back to the map Seira had drawn. “Uuluth would be a full day out from here sailing, and that’s if the wind was with us all the way. Plus, I’m not so sure I trust this little thing to the open sea.”

Poseidon chuckled. “I admit this ‘little thing’ does not look like much, but I assure you it will hold up in open waters. As for your speed, well,” she said, grinning, “I’m tasking a monster with pulling the boat along. Someone strong and trustworthy. Someone you know.”

Someone he knew? Galen raised an eyebrow. Who did he know that worked for Poseidon?

He jumped in place when several tentacles gripped him from behind. Two wound themselves around his arms, traveling all the way up to his shoulders, two coiled around his chest and waist, and one latched onto his head, slowly turning it to the side to meet the face of their owner.

“Hello there, my little adventurer~”

Her breath with thick with the sea, mouth curled into a wicked smile while her eye dripped with seduction. It was a pale visage Galen recognized at once.

“H-hey, Kraken.”

The tentacles gripping him tightened. “When I sent you on your way, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again. I knew the trip here would be long, but nevertheless, you came all the way here just for me. You have no idea how happy I was to hear Poseidon tell me about your arrival. I instantly volunteered to do whatever I could to help.” She nuzzled her cheek against his. “It’s so wonderful to hold you in my tentacles again~”

A deep growl, one born of fire and fury, shook Galen to his bones. Gulping, he turned to Seira.

Her face twisted in rage, and her eye burned a blood red. Had he not been so smothered in terror, he might have called the sight beautiful.

“Tentacles OFF, slimy!” spat Seira, stepping forward.

“Are you jealous?” The Kraken grinned and pulled Galen in closer. “I can see why. But there’s no mark on him, so he must not be taken.”

“I’ll leave more than a mark on YOU if you don’t let go!” She raised a paw, showing off her claws.

Galen could’ve sworn he heard a snicker, but it wasn’t from the Kraken.

“My, my, no need to get violent.” He tentacles receded--slowly, of course--and the Kraken took her place beside Poseidon. “As she says, I’ll be pulling you along to Uuluth, if that is where you wish to go.”

“Won’t that be tiring?” asked Sybyll.

“I imagine so. But I have the stamina to cope, and I’m much more comfortable on water than land. It won’t be a problem.”

“If everyone is clear, then you best be off,” said Poseidon. “There’s no time to waste. Even with the Kraken pulling, it will take most of the day to reach Uuluth.” She gestured to the boat. “Please.”

Sybyll was the first to board, giving the boat her own inspection. She nodded to herself and took a seat near the stern. Mino followed shortly afterward, hopping on the boat like a kid would a bed. After her fun, she shot a grin back to Galen and sat next to Sybyll. Galen stepped forward to board, but one of Poseidon’s tentacles pulled him close to allow her to lean down and whisper into his ear.

“You walk a thorny path, Galen, and it might be alone. Others may not be as willing to sacrifice as you.”

Instead of cowering at the sudden action from Poseidon, however, Galen met her eyes with a sharp gaze. He knew she’d have something more to say to him, but he wasn’t going to take back what he did, no matter how it might bother him.

“I guess I’ll just have to trust, then.”

Poseidon nodded, showing neither pleasure or displeasure with his response, and allowed him to board. Seira was close behind, shooting Poseidon and the Kraken a look before sitting down next to Galen. She made sure to scoot up right next to him, rubbing her arm against his as she did. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Good luck,” said Poseidon, pushing their boat away from the pier. “The hopes of many lie with you, even if they do not realize it.”

“I won’t fail!” said Galen.

The Kraken rose from the water in front of the boat, holding a rope attach to the bow. “Brace yourselves; I’m not starting off slow.”

Galen gripped the seat. He felt Seira’s muscles tense against his arm as she did the same. Mino wrapped several hair-tentacles around her seat, leaving her hands free to clap in amusement. With a jerk, the boat lurched into open waters, and their journey to Uuluth began.

  
**

  
Sea spray and gentle waves followed the party’s little boat as she made her way to Uuluth. The board sail flapped in the wind, the edges cutting along the air with a sound that reminded Galen of his mother airing out sheets after taking them off the clothesline. His feet stuck to the floor, his arms gripping his seat hard enough to make them ache. They were fortunate enough to have the wind in their favor, and with the additional speed from the Kraken, the boat was actually difficult for him to keep steady in. Waves that he could’ve shrugged off now rocked the boat and the sea was not so gentle to let up. He kept his eyes on the bow, using it to help his balance. After long enough, he started focusing on the warps and curves in the wood, the stress and the coloring, how the sea and sky dipped and flowed in the background.

Uuluth. One step short of the end of his journey. Afterwards, they would go to the monster lord’s castle and end it, stopping whatever war she planned before it started and tearing into the earth with the same force which created the Scar of the World. Oddly enough, however, that’s not so much what worried him. Poseidon had said the ships from Nox and the surround islands had docked in Uuluth. It made sense, of course, given the king’s castle overlooked the city, but the why didn’t matter.

If all the soldiers from Nox were in Uuluth, then so was his father.

“Does it bug you?”

Galen lifted his gaze from the bow, blinking a few times before turning to Seira. “Bug me?”

“This whole trip. Don’t you feel manipulated at all? Ever since you left Nox, you’ve been running around for someone else. You had to find Poseidon for the Kraken. You wanted Toneruth to show your father. Now here we are out on Poseidon’s little errand.”

“Oh.” He turned back to the bow. The ripples in the wood on the right side deserved more attention. “I guess I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Haven’t thought about it!? Doesn’t--“ She cut herself off, looking between Galen and the spot he was staring at. “But something is bugging you.”

“Mm.” The darker lines kinda made a face, didn’t they?

“Hey.” She jabbed him in the side with her elbow. And not gently.

“Ah!” He winced, rubbing the spot. “What?”

“What’s bugging you?”

“Uh?”

“Don’t give me that stupid face. It suits you too well.” She narrowed her eyes. “What’s bugging you?”

Galen found himself blushing. Was it because he was talking about this in front of everyone? Or something else? “It’s… it’s Uuluth. If the ship from Nox went there, then my father will be there too.”

Seira gave a slow nod. “Ahh. It’s been a little while since you saw him, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” His eyes fell to the boat deck. “And he wasn’t exactly happy with me leaving.”

“You left without his permission?” Seira raised an eyebrow. “Huh. I hadn’t pegged you for someone who’d do that. I thought you were a good little boy.”

“I was!” he said with unexpected vigor. He shied away when he saw Seira’s shocked face. “That was one of the first times I disobeyed him in a long time. I just… I had to do this, you know? I’d been wanting to for so long, and he said I could have anything I wanted for my coming-of-age day, so I thought I could leave.” He shook his head. “I guess I should’ve listened to him.”

“Wow. This is really weird, seeing you like this.” She tapped his head with a fist. “It’s like you’re actually using that brain of yours.”

“Hey!” He knocked Seira’s paw away. “C’mon!”

“It takes everyone time to understand things, especially when you’re still growing up. Maybe it took you this long to understand why your father didn’t want you to go, but that doesn’t mean everything between then and now has suddenly become a waste.”

“I know that! I just wish I had done things differently. Better. If I had just known then what I do now…”

“Then everything would’ve gone just right, wouldn’t it have?” She grinned, flicking Galen’s head. “That’s called hindsight, and it always comes around and gets you. Of course if you knew the future you could’ve handled things better. Of course an older you would know what to do. But that kind of talk is pointless and will run you around in circles. You’ll never get anywhere like that.”

He sighed. “I wonder if my father is thinking that way about how he could’ve stopped me from leaving.”

“I think if you want the answer to that, you’ll have to ask him yourself.”

“I guess I will.”

He kept another thought to himself, one asking if his father would approve of how he changed during his journey or scold him for it.

Hours and hours of sea passed by in relative silence after that. No one had much to say, or rather, no one had much to say in front of everyone else. Galen might’ve taken it for another example of the distance between everyone, but today there was much to think about. Seira probably was figuring out what to do when she first took the title of monster lord; Galen was never great with politics, so he couldn’t guess as to the specifics of her thoughts in the slightest. Sybyll had the responsibility of teaching him how to use Toneruth like Solvet did, but maybe she was having second thoughts, or wondering how best to teach Galen. Mino had just been along for the ride, but now they were entering into territory he bet not even she knew. Was involving herself with a person and monsters set on changing the world what she wanted? Galen had gotten the feeling she wanted a more modest journey.

He’d expected the Kraken to be more vocal, but she spent all her time underwater, pulling the boat, never letting up on speed. Occasionally, a tentacle would reach up over the side of the boat and attempt to wrap around Galen’s wrist, but Seira’s ears and eyes were on constant alert, and the moment a tentacle showed itself, she’d slap it away. He almost asked her why she did it, but he had his suspicions, and Seira would likely make up an excuse.

It was odd, wasn’t it? Sure, Seira wasn’t acting quite as harsh toward him as she had when the journey had started, but she strayed devoutly from any show of fondness. Was this something all manticores did, or was this just Seira? They were companions, sure, but the way Seira acted made him feel something like a possession, too. Any time any monster showed affection for Galen, she got riled up, like they were touching her property. He could hardly forget those nights she pounced on him and drained him--the fire in her eyes, the heat between their bodies, and how she controlled him with such lust and satisfaction. Galen rubbed his temples. He didn’t know enough about manticores or even monsters in general to figure her out.

Maybe he should ask her about it later, catch her when she was off-guard. He glanced over at her, careful not to let her notice. Or maybe he’d just keep these thoughts to himself.

Just as the sun began to dip below the horizon, the boat slowed and the Kraken popped up from the water for the first time since they set out.

“Uuluth is just ahead, but I don’t think we’ll be docking so easily.”

“What do you mean?” said Galen.

“Take a look.” She pointed forwards.

He stood up, squinting at the horizon. After a few seconds, he could make out two black spots, behind them something more, something unnatural. Probably the Uuluth docks.

“What are those spots?”

“A welcoming party, it seems. Two decent-sized ships.” She smiled at Galen. “I can take care of them if you want me to, darling~”

A growl from Seira reminded the Kraken she was still there, but from the Kraken’s expression, Galen wasn’t sure she cared. “No, no. Don’t do anything to them. Just take us in like normal. They’re probably just guards, and we don’t really have anything to hide from them.”

“We might not need anything to hide. Remember, Galen, there are a bunch of monsters gathering not too far out and the king is well-aware of it. Do you really think they’ll take in four monsters and a human so easily?”

Galen frowned. “I hope so.”

It wasn’t long before the ships grew on the horizon, closer and closer until they were behemoths, towering over the little transport Galen and his group were on. Both of the approaching ships had at least three sails, and Galen could make out the activity of over a couple dozen men on each. Uuluth wasn’t taking any chances.

As one of the ships came astride Galen’s, a man peered over the side down at them. From his uniform, Galen suspected he was some kind of officer. Maybe the captain.

“Ahoy, there! What brings…” His voice trailed off as he leaned over. “By the goddess--Galen?!”

Galen took another look at the man, looking past the uniform this time. His father? No, someone else from Nox. A friend of his father. The first familiar face he’d seen in a long time.

“Hey, Dremmond!” he said, grinning. “How are you?”

“Never mind me, what the heck are you doing here? And with those monsters? Don’t tell me they kidnapped you! I’ll have them thrown off right away!” He turned back, gesturing something to the other men on board, but Galen called him off.

“No, it’s alright! We’re friends!”

A rhythmic tapping started on the deck of the boat Galen was in. Not sloppy, like a slime foot, or hard, like a scaled foot, but muted. The sound a paw would make.

“Friends?” He took another look at the monsters. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah!”

“If you say so.” He didn’t sound convinced. “Why are you here?”

“I’m looking for a blacksmith. We heard he’s in Uuluth.”

“A blacksmith? Yeah, there are a several of those in Uuluth. But Galen, this isn’t a good time to be here. The monsters--well, people are restless. And they aren’t going to like seeing monsters around. You should head back home.”

Galen shook his head. “I can’t. I have to get through to Uuluth. I’m only staying a day, anyways.”

“You’re serious about getting in, huh?” Dremmond looked away, rubbing his chin in thought. Galen felt his anxiety rising with each second Dremmond took thinking. With Seira’s wings and help from the Kraken, they probably could escape this situation if need be, but getting around Uuluth would be a pain if they were on the run.

“Aghh. I guess if it’s just for a day, then you can come in. But Hoem is going to want to see you before anything, and if he wants you shipped off back home, well, I think that would probably be for the best.” He waved to the other men on board his ship. “Alright, bring ‘em around. We’ll escort the kid into dock.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Galen knew he’d be running into his dad somehow, but he hadn’t considered being forced to return home. “And I’m not a kid any more!” yelled Galen.

Dremmond just chuckled and walked away.

The moment Galen sat back down, Seira nudged him and whispered, “You know you can’t let this Hoem guy send you back, right?”

His eyes narrowed. “’That Hoem guy’ is my dad. And yeah, I know. But I gotta face him first. If he wants to send me back, then I’ll figure something out.”

“Good.”

The Uuluth dock put even Poseidon’s to shame. Dozens and dozens of ships laid docked, some busy, some empty. Galen could make out the fishing ships--some even he recognized--but the larger ones, like what Dremmond brought them in with, drew awe more than anything else. Before seeing that large ship docked at Poseidon’s domain, he didn’t even know ships could get that big. He didn’t think anyone would need anything so large, anyways. With a possible war around the corner, however, he imagined they would find some use. 

Dremmond’s ship brought them in amongst several other smaller boats. The Kraken never showed her face, which was probably a smart move. Galen wanted to tell her to wait for them, but she probably figured out enough of what was happening already. Hopefully she’d be waiting to pull them to Medusuub’s castle as soon as Toneruth was repaired.

Galen scratched his neck and a fresh wave of shivers went down his spine. Toneruth. He’d been so focused on what Poseidon had told them, meeting his father, and stopping the war that he hadn’t actually thought about fixing it. He’d just assumed they’d find the blacksmith without trouble… but what if they didn’t? Or what if they found him, but he couldn’t repair it? Would Sybyll still be able to teach him how to cut a Scar? Could they find some way to stop Medusuub without it?

The boat bumping into the dock shook Galen out of his thoughts. Dremmond had already left his ship and was waiting for Galen and company on the pier. Taking a deep breath, he stood up, stretching his arms and legs before stepping back onto solid ground. His first few steps were uneasy, but he adapted soon enough. He’d been on long boat rides before, but it had been a while, and rarely did they last a whole day. He waited for everyone to hop off the boat behind him before he approached Dremmond. Mino was far too engrossed in the scenery to give off any sort of restlessness, but Seira and Sybyll both were on their guard.

“Hoem is this way,” said Dremmond, and started off.

Galen wasted no time following, keeping his eyes forward in hopes he could spot his father before his father saw him. He couldn’t say why, but he felt that seeing his father first would make Galen feel more at ease. The chorus of footsteps behind him reminded him that his father hadn’t seen any of these monsters before, and would probably want an explanation. Telling his father the whole story would lead to some complications: if Galen told his father he was with a monster aiming to be the next monster lord and they were heading off to kill the current one, Galen would assuredly be sent home. Who knows what they would do to Seira afterwards.

“Um, Dremmond, my dad never really told me what his, uh, station was.”

Dremmond’s walk slowed for a couple of steps. A long sigh came out before his answer. “He’s a captain. The village chief was a general, though in his current age, he’s more of an adviser now.” He paused, considering his next words. “Galen, I’m sorry you had to find out like this. I… well, I should probably leave the talking to your father. He’s just up ahead.”

That’s right. Dremmond was in on the secret just as much as his father. When Galen looked at him, however, he didn’t feel ill. In fact, the last few words from him put something more akin to pity in Galen’s stomach. Mixed with all the nervousness and tension, he almost wanted to puke.

They walked though the docks, passing massive, unmarked buildings, each as long as the largest ships Galen saw, and at least two stories high. Had he not seen similar buildings in Fullsburg, he might’ve gaped at them. Dremmond turned a corner after the last of the buildings, passing more men in uniforms, each giving the monsters behind Galen an array of looks. He couldn’t worry about that now, or rather, he didn’t have the capacity too. Sweat had begun to leak onto his face and neck, but he couldn’t let his father see anything less than determination. If he met his father asking to stay instead of demanding, his father would have no trouble making up his mind and order him straight back home.

Wooden steps shook angrily under his feet as he strode up. Dremmond pushed through a door and led Galen and his group into a room just large enough for the six of them and a lone desk with a single lantern atop it.

Dremmond gestured to a door opposite the one they’d entered in through. “Galen, Hoem is in the next room. You might want your… friends to stay out here.”

He looked back to them. They each nodded, with Seira adding, “We’re find here. Just go talk to your dad.”

Galen nodded, then turned to Dremmond.

“Alright,” said Dremmond, his hand closing around the doorknob. His eyes went up and to the right, searching for the right words. “Good luck.”

The door swung open, and Galen stepped inside.

**Chapter 35**

A lonely blue sky peered down upon a much less lonely wheat field. Several men were out with scythes, their rhythmic swipes across the stalks like some ceremonial dance. Each man had his own steps, his own beat to move to, though all sweated under the dry, beating sun. All worked as an island--all except one. This man and his apprentice moved slower than the others. The man’s scythe swung with more caution, his steps more even and tender, hoping to lay an example for the younger one who strode behind him. The younger’s attention, however, was much harder to earn.

“Can I swing the scythe yet?”

The older stopped, letting the blade touch the ground as he straightened his back and turned around.

“No, Galen. I’m not letting you use a scythe on your first harvest. Just pay attention like I told you and if you can show me you have, then I’ll let you next year.”

Galen frowned, but didn’t protest any further. His father could get grumpy in the middle of work, and Galen hadn’t a mind to test him.

Hoem went back to his dance, sweeping across the wheat, and Galen shuffled behind him. His eyes went to the uncut wheat beside him, too still on this hot day. There should be a breeze running through them, bringing them to life as a golden sea, but all the stalks ever did was sway under their own weight. Or was it fear of the scythe that made them move? He’d tried to count the stalks once, but his interest disappeared the moment he lost count. It was like counting hair, hair grown by the earth itself. Galen absent-mindedly ran his hand through the wheat, letting his fingers slide over the smooth stalks up to the rough heads where the seeds lay. His dry skin almost felt cool against the wheat, but he knew it was nothing more than wishful thinking. A breeze or even just some shade would be a blessing, but the wind remained silent and the sky clear. Maybe the clouds had left to give someone else shade.

“Galen. Pay attention.”

Hoem had reached the end of the field and had turned around to start scything the next row of wheat, only to find his son staring off into the distance. An obvious roll of the eyes and dragging of the feet was Galen’s response, but he didn’t object with his mouth. His father let the scythe blade drop to the ground once more.

“I know this might be boring to you now, but it’s important, just as learning to cook, learning to make a fire, and learning to hunt are important. I should’ve had you out in these fields two years ago, but delayed because you asked. We all have to do our part--this is just another aspect of it.”

Galen’s frown intensified. “I know,” he grumbled, not willing to offer argument. He never won arguments with his dad, anyways.

Hoem paused, glancing behind at Galen for a moment before bringing the scythe to bear again. At the very least, Galen had dodged another full-blown lecture. He cringed when he thought about what his mother might say about this later. His father couldn’t use words the way she could.

Silence held the air between them for a while, silence but for the scythe’s whisper across the wheat. Galen tried once more to find wind in the air, but again it chose to be unforthcoming.

“This doesn’t look like as much as last year,” said Galen.

His father held back the scythe a moment while he looked over the field. “No, it doesn’t look that way.”

“But we planted over the same ground.”

“That may be, but some harvests are more giving than others. If the winter’s cold lingers into the spring months, or if there isn’t as much rain while the wheat grows, or the soil isn’t as rich, we won’t get as much wheat.”

“What if the cold never goes away? Or it never rains?”

His father stopped to catch his breath, using an elbow to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Then we would have no wheat. But such a thing has never happened, and I don’t expect it will.”

Galen kept to himself, only following his father as he scythed through the field. Galen spotted another man wielding a scythe further down the field, intent on his own work. Doing his part.

“It’s not fair,” said Galen.

“Nothing is ever truly ‘fair’; fair is just an idea men came up with. The world runs on its own time and by its own rules. We can work to make things just, to make them right, but ask if you ask for fair, you’ll never get an answer. This year we won’t have as much bread, though next year we may have more, just as we may have less. You make the best of what you get, and once you have, well, that’s something you can be happy with.”

“What if what you get isn’t enough?”

“You make it enough.” He lowered the blade one last time to turn to Galen, his eyes strained from either work or words. “Bread is simple enough to come by, but when you’re in a real pinch, that’s probably not the kind of food you’ll be looking for.”

‘Strawberries, then,’ thought Galen, ‘I’ve always wanted to taste strawberries.’

  
**

  
Galen had the advantage of seeing his father first. Sitting behind a desk, the man gave his attention to scribbling something down. Short, jet-black hair melted into skin tanned from a lifetime in the field, hands calloused and grizzled from heaving hoes, axes, and scythes now attended a quill. And soon a sword, Galen told himself, should Medusuub not meet her end tomorrow or the day after. Even sitting, Hoem loomed over his desk like a tower, and while muscled, he still held much the lanky build Galen did. Galen spied his hand writing with much the same vigor he would approach anything. At the closing of the door behind Galen, Hoem twitched, and Galen knew his father’s grey eyes would soon come to his. Galen tried to keep it quiet, but he couldn’t stop a quick inhale, sucking up the nervousness he’d bled off elsewhere

Hoem only needed raise his eyes from his desk. Recognition flashed. Then, before thought had time to form, he was up, around the desk, and embracing Galen. The young adventurer was too shocked to react at first, and before he could hug back, his father had pulled back, leaving his hand tightly grasping Galen’s shoulders.

“Galen! Goddess I was worried! Where have you been? Why are you here?” His hands dug tighter with each sentence, as if Galen might fly away if he let go.

“Dad.” He grabbed his father’s hands. “I’m okay.” Any attempt to keep a smile to himself was squashed upon seeing his father’s face. “I’ve been traveling.”

“Where??”

Galen had forgotten how tall his father could stand if he wished. “All over. I landed on the mainland, walked to Silere, then--“

“Silere?! Why would you go there?”

“Well, after you told me all those stories, I thought I figured out where Toneruth was, so I wanted--”

“Toneruth?!” He squeezed Galen’s shoulders for a moment, then let go, stepping back and leaning against the desk. “You’d better start from the beginning. Tell me everything.”

Galen did start from the beginning, but he didn’t tell his father everything. Meeting the Kraken, then Seira, then the lamia’s pursuit came first. On the latter of those, his father’s breath caught, but he didn’t interrupt. Next came Sybyll and Silere, the encounter with the orcs, Fullsburg and the subsequent run from the city. Hoem shook his head at that, but was more prone to smiling than frowning, as much as he might try to hide it. The mention of a ushi-oni caught his attention, and he had a couple questions about her, but in the end accepted it just as much as the rest. How could he not? The tale of the trip to Mallus was much more disconcerting--to Galen as well, he still tried to keep those memories in the back of his mind--yet his father hid as much of his thoughts as possible. He wasn’t a grim man, or a stoic one, but there were times he could pretend just as well.

Galen’s words slowed. He wasn’t fond of those times.

He told his father about Poseidon and the voyage over the sea to Uuluth as well, but said nothing of his plans, other than, “I came here to repair Toneruth.”

And to that, his father replied with a hand on his chin, rubbing it like he might scratch his beard right off, and pacing around the room with steps more fit for a giant. Galen fidgeted in place.

“Why do you want to repair it?”

Galen bit his lip. “Isn’t it natural to want to repair a sword like that? I wanted to show it off back home, too, and it wouldn’t really mean much broken like it is.”

“Show it off? Do you have any idea what sort of things you’d get mixed up in if people or monsters found out you had it?”

“Heh.” Galen couldn’t hide the sweat on his face. “Yeah, I kinda do …”

Silence. Then his father stumbled back, sitting on the desk and placing a hand on his forehead. “Geezes, Galen.” Those sharp grey eyes went to the hilt attached to Galen’s belt. “By the goddess. This…” He dragged both hands down his face. “At least you’re safe now. That’s what’s important.” He held out his hand. “Give me Toneruth. Your craziness might have given this city exactly what it needs.” His eyes sharpened. “But don’t ever do anything like that again.”

‘You walk a thorny path, Galen.’ The words were thick in his mind.

Galen’s hand went to Toneruth’s hilt, but not to hand it over. “I, I c-can’t, dad. I need it.”

“What?”

The warmth from his greeting had betrayed Galen to ice. 

“I need to keep it. I can help the city with it.”

“Yes, you can. By giving it to me. I’ll have a proper blacksmith fix it up and we can use it.” He patted Galen on his shoulder. His left one. For some reason, however, it wasn’t aching. “You made it through a lot to get here, Galen. I understand that. But what comes next is too much for you.”

“I--“ How many times would he be forced to say it? How deep must the thorn be driven, how many times must it be twisted? “I can’t give it up.”

“Galen. You’re not making any sense. You said you wanted to help the city, but if you don’t give it to me, you can’t. And as your father, I cannot allow you to stay here. Today it might be safe, but tomorrow? A week? You need to go back home.”

“Then just let me stay here for today! I’ll leave tomorrow, I swear!” It wasn’t a lie, technically.

“What are you planning with that sword, then?”

“All I want to do is repair it. I am not planning anything else with it here.” The words came out carefully, precise, like his mouth was a quill and he was speaking as though practicing calligraphy. “Please. Just let me do this.”

Hoem stared at his son, breathing so carefully to not disturb the balance tipping in his head. Telling Galen not to leave on his journey back when they were on Nox was black and white. That decision was simple. But now that they were both here, and Galen had proved himself through everything that brought him here, the balance would not settle so easily.

‘It’s just a day,’ thought Galen. ‘Just a blacksmith.’

Eternity slipped into that space between Galen’s request and his father’s answer. Galen heard his heartbeat thump through his ears, felt his palms grow sweaty and heat permeate his body. Eternity was every bit as long as he feared, but his father’s words put an end to it.

“One day. Then you’re leaving.”

Galen’s grin spread across his face in an instant. He clapped his hands together, saying, “Thank you, thank you!” Pouncing forward, he wrapped his father up in a hug, squeezing as hard as he could before letting go. Hesitation gripped him as he stole glances as the door. He met eyes with his father.

“Go on, you’ve only got a day.”

As he ran from the room, Hoem collapsed back into his chair, sighing to himself.

“I’m getting too soft.”

The result of Galen’s chat with his father became apparent the moment he bounded from the room, all smiles and vigor. Mino became much a reflection of him, running up to Galen and hopping in circles with him, cheering over their fortune. Seira rolled her eyes at the sight. Galen laid his hands on Mino’s shoulders to stop her. A little celebration was fine, but he had a task to get to. When he spotted Seira, his grin grew wider. He ran for the door, but before leaving, he seized Seira’s paw and dragged her along with him.

The resulting gawk escaping her mouth could almost be called adorable.

“What are you doing? You can’t just drag me around like this!”

They’d made it all the way to the street before she freed herself.

Dremmond gave them directions to area of the city where they could find the blacksmiths, though he admitted he didn’t know if there was an ‘Edward Smith’ among them. Hadn’t been in the city long enough to know it that well. Nevertheless, Galen and his group made all haste getting to the blacksmith’s quarter, arriving shortly after the last of the day’s sunlight had faded from the sky. Sconces carry flame lit the streets, light reflecting off fine cobblestone the color of dirt and smoke. Unlike Fullsburg, Uuluth’s streets met at odd angles, some twisting and turning, others straight, and the resulting network made Galen’s head spin on any attempt to comprehend it. Luckily, all they needed to know was a few turns.

Galen’s spirits fell on their arrival, finding all the stores closed and most of the sconces illuminating empty windows. He tried desperately to find one beacon of hope before all the excitement he’d gained from talking with his father drained away. One was offered in the form of a lit window, a dancing light telling him someone was still awake inside. He rushed to the door, not checking if his group was behind him, and knocked on the door with and eager fist. Perhaps too eager for the time of night.

“The torch’s lit, isn’t it?” came a voice from inside.

Opening the door, Galen’s attention split a hundred ways at once. Hammers, tongs, tools of all sorts filled the room, along with pots and pans for cooking. Galen and the group had to squeeze together to keep from knocking things over and each step was taken with care, all the way up to the counter. A middle-aged woman awaited them there, fatigue plain on her face.

Galen placed his hands on the counter. “We’re looking for a blacksmith.”

A raised eyebrow and hollow smile marked the woman’s mood. “What a coincidence. You’re in the blacksmith quarter.”

“Wait, you’re a blacksmith?”

“No, I’m just bored.” She gestured to the room. “What does it look like, kid?”

Galen closed his eyes a moment. Now wasn’t the time for sarcasm and pointless questions. He knew what he needed to find. “Sorry. I’m looking for a specific blacksmith.” Was was the name the arachne gave him? “Edward. Edward Smith.”

“Well, I’m afraid I ain’t no Edward. But you keep going down that road toward the cliff’s edge, you’ll find him in a bit.” She crossed her arms. “Works and lives away from the rest of us blacksmiths, but maybe ‘cause he’s able to charge so damn much.” She wagged a finger at Galen. “I hope you got the coin for him.”

His chest tightened, but he nodded. They could work something out. They would have to. “Thanks.”

The group shuffled back out of the place, carefully as they shuffled in. Galen saw a sort of wonder in Mino’s eyes on the way out--maybe she hadn’t seen a proper blacksmith’s store before? Thankfully, she didn’t start playing around with anything. It was likely she knew exactly how important their mission was, despite the carefree smiles she still threw about.

Galen took the lead again, following the street the woman had told them to travel. Boots, paws, slime, and claws rapped at the cobblestone. Wind pushed at Galen’s back, as if it wished him to hurry. They passed many other shops, all closed or closing, and every pair of eyes that caught them ended up following them as long as they were in sight. More specifically, they followed the monsters. Galen had a guess as to why.

The buildings thinned out and eventually stopped and the road turned to a simple path as rocks began to jut out of the dirt. They were approaching the edge of the city, high atop a jagged cliff. Any building would be difficult to ground here, and a road wasn’t necessary with the decrease in use. Uneasiness settled in Galen’s stomach. Had they passed Edward’s place? Who would go out of their way to live out here? Would he even be open and awake if they found him? Galen took in a sharp breath, the scent of the sea filling his nostrils once more. Even up here, the sea reached out, whispering a reminder that it was still there, still close.

“Galen.” It was Sybyll. She was pointing.

A modest house stood alone on the rocky earth, kept even and still by a wooden base. It couldn’t have had more than three rooms, though for one person, that would have been more than enough. Outside the house but still under a ceiling sat an anvil and forge, as well as other blacksmith tools. The forge still glowed orange.

Galen started off almost at a run, but came to a halt only a few steps in at Sybyll’s call. “I think Mino, Seria and I should wait here. The people in town did not seem keen on our presence, and it would be unfortunate if we scared this blacksmith off.”

Seira shrugged and Mino nodded. Galen took that for acceptance, turning and running all the way to the lone building’s front door. The uneasiness in his stomach began to bubble as if boiling. If this wasn’t Edward’s place…

Three firm knocks rang through the hollow night. Galen’s hand ached from the impact, but his mind was too busy to note pain. A second passed. Two seconds. Time swallowed all sound, for only one mattered: a response.

It was taking too long. Galen raised his hand again, and again three knocks rang out, each as if Galen had intended to bust the door straight in. One second. Two. Three. Four. He pulled his hand back again.

“Wait jus’ a damn minute! I heard you the first time!”

Short scuffles and fumbling came from inside. Each approaching footstep brought Galen’s stomach closer to bursting. His heart beat like thunder, his skin burned as if aflame. Please, he pleaded.

The door opened with an awful creak and with such painful lack of speed--slower than any other door Galen had seen open. But it did open. The man inside stood tall enough to look down on Galen, his blue eyes squinting with weariness, though not a world-weariness like Galen had seen in the woman such a short time ago, but weariness of mind, as if the man hadn’t slept in days. The lantern he held swayed back and forth, making the tiny shadows of the man’s rough facial hair dance about. His build made his occupation obvious, his body slight and relaxed even when encountered with a late visitor. It had tensed a moment when looking at Galen, as if he had expected more, but that vanished the second their eyes met.

“It’s late, kid, and my eyes ain’t so great any more. You want something, come back tomorrow. I’ve got normal hours like everyone else.” His voice grated against Galen’s ears, as if the man had carelessly tossed it out for anyone nearby to hear it.

“Wait! Are you Edward Smith?”

“’Course I am. That’s why you came this far out, ain’t it? Tomorrow.” The door began to close, but Galen stepped forward and held it open. His eyes pleaded more than words.

“Please! This is important!”

Edward took another look at Galen, straight into his eyes, as if the rest of Galen didn’t exist. The lantern moved in closer, and Galen’s breath caught. Time again swallowed all but one sound.

“Eh, whatever. But say inside, where I can actually see. C’mon.”

He didn’t even open the door back up for Galen, letting him catch it before it closed all the way. Galen called to Edward’s back. “I’ve got some friends. Monsters. Is it okay if they come, too?”

Edward sighed loud enough for Galen to hear. “If they have ta. Let’s just hurry on with this, yeah?”

Galen waved for everyone to come in but wasted no time jogging in himself. Edward’s house was deceptively spacious inside. After a couple steps of entryway, it opened to a larger room--a workroom, from the looks of it. A bench lined one wall, tools kept in boxes marked with some sort of identifier--a black mark, a letter, or a word. Buckets were stacked in one corner and other materials were stuffed in containers under the benches. Edward himself stood over a desk on the far side of the room covered in drawings, shuffling them around for some purpose. Galen almost stepped closer to get a better look, but Edward pulled his attention back to the matter at hand with that gravelly voice of his.

“So, what’s so important to bring a kid here at this time of night and can’t wait till tomorrow? You know I’ll charge ya more if it’s a rush job.”

Galen swallowed and bit his lip. He had to say this just right. “I need you to repair a sword.”

Edward chuckled and shook his head. “Need me? To repair a sword? There are five other blacksmiths I can think of in this city that could do that for you no trouble. You sure you in the right place?”

Three others made their arrival known with a clattering of footsteps and the door’s distinctive creak. Seira stood right behind Galen, close enough he could feel the heat coming off her.

Edward turned around, lantern in hand and ready to lecture. “Now I ain’t had monsters in here for a while, so let me be…”

The words died in his mouth, leaving it hanging open like someone’d shoved an apple in it. His face drained of color, and the fatigue in his eyes vanished as if it’d never been there, replaced with shock that could shatter mountains.

The lantern dropped to the floor.

His words came out barely whispers. “My… by all… Goddess fuck me…”

Galen’s head spin around to where he was looking and found Sybyll staring right back at Edward, her eyes filling with a richness he didn’t think possible. He turned back to Edward, finding the blacksmith’s eyes glancing over Galen’s waist where his sword hung, a maneuver Galen had gotten used to seeing.

“Edward Smith.” Sybyll may have well been calling to lost family.

“Sybyll of Longhearth.” His mouth cried before his eyes could.

**Chapter 36**

The space between them vanished in an instant. Sybyll slipped by Galen and collided with Edward, wrapping him up in a tight hug he eagerly returned. Galen heard him grunt from the force of it.

“I can’t believe…” he started, “I mean, I knew you’d be out there somewhere, but, jus’, it’s been so long.”

“A very long time,” she replied, resting her head on his shoulder.

“How’d you,” a swallow broke his speech; the strain in his eyes betrayed how he fought tears. “How’d you end up here?”

“Duty, same as always.”

He closed his eyes, giving Sybyll another squeeze before pulling away from the hug. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands on his hips and shook his head as he looked at Sybyll’s face.

“Duty.” His mouth twisted like the word tasted foul on his tongue. “Don’t tell me that’s really why you’re here. The old Sybyll’d be fightin’ it tooth and claw every step of the way.”

“You should know just as well as I that time is change.”

“Eh? Time’s a battle you gotta fight in order to keep the rest o’ the world from doing what it please with you.” He narrowed his eyes. “You sure you haven’t drank somethin’ funny?”

Seira coughed.

‘Drat,’ thought Galen. He could’ve stood there and watched them talk back and forth forever--probably could’ve gotten a good story or two out of it as well. He knew why Seira had coughed, though; he wasn’t without his own questions. The first, and most obvious, came out of Seira’s mouth before it could leave his.

“How the hell do you two know each other?”

Not exactly how he’d phrase it, however.

“Ah,” said Sybyll, stepping to the side to give everyone a good look at Edward. “Allow me to intro--“

“You’re all formal now, too? Sheesh.” Edward nudged his way forward, offering Galen a hand. “A half-asleep welcome at the door ain’t fit for the man who brought Sybyll here.” Galen’s mind spun in circles, but he took the hand nonetheless with a vigor to match the blacksmith’s. “I’m Edward Smith, and I’m the one who forged the sword on your hip.”

“Hwah? Toneruth?!?” Galen returned the handshake mechanically, his eyes widening larger than his face and sounds tumbling out his mouth only resembled words. Seira’s reaction was a touch more articulate.

“What?? But that would make you over a thousand years old!”

“Aye, that it would.” He left Galen with a pat on the shoulder and stood in front of Seira, offering her the same handshake he had to Galen. “And who might you be?”

While her paw swallowed his hand, her handshake had none of the brutishness of her questions. “S-Seira.” Her mouth moved as if to give more, but nothing else came.

“And you?” Edward said, switching his attention to Mino.

“Mino. Pleased to meet ya.”

“Pleasure’s mine.” Mino ended up being the one only able to properly return Edward’s handshake, splaying a grin across his face as he walked back to Sybyll. “Now that you’re here, Sybyll, I believe you owe me a mountain a’ stories ‘bout where you been.” The hearty slap on the back of her shoulder rang loud in the confines of the room.

“And I would be pleased to begin work on this debt, but as Galen here said, the reason we are here is rather important.”

His smile wormed into a smirk. “I don’t think I’ll be soon getting’ used to that speech of yours. But if you say it’s important, it’ll have to come first.” He turned to Galen. “Galen, is it? And if you’ve come to me about this important thing, I’m assuming it has something to do with that,” he said, pointing at Toneruth.

A timid nod was Galen’s reply, followed by the removal of Toneruth’s sheath from his belt. He offered it to Edward, who whistled as he took it.

“Ho boy. Been such a long time since I’ve seen this thing, but in my hands it seems like it was just a day ago.” His hand slowly ventured across the sheath, wiping off dust and dirt all the way to the tip. “So what’s the trouble?”

Galen felt much like a child showing his parents a toy he’d broken just after he’d gotten it. “You should take a look. It’s… pretty clear.”

Edward gave a slight tilt of the head, carrying Toneruth over the bench. He swiped an area clear of tools and materials before placing Toneruth down. The moment his hand closed around the hilt, he paused. Galen cringed. If Edward was the one who forged the blade, just touching the hilt was enough to tell him something was horribly wrong. As Toneruth cleared the scabbard it let out a high-pitched ring--a ring which should’ve been much more mellow. The sound that came out of Edward’s mouth was too lazy to be a hiss but too strained to be a sigh. All Galen could do was watch and wait.

“Yeesh. You’ve gone and done a number, alright.” He held the stump of a sword up, pinching the metal, then brought it closer to inspect it. “It may have been more than a few years ago when I made it, but I know I didn’t leave a single flaw in the metal or the design.” He turned to Galen. “What’ve you been doing with it?”

Galen played with his fingers, trying to keep eye contact with Edward. “Well, the first break--“

“The FIRST?” Edward spun back to Toneruth and dropped the two other pieces of blade out of the sheath. “Two breaks.” He squinted at the metal. “Awful ragged, too. What were you doing, hitting it on rock until your arms couldn’t move?”

“No!” He may have not had the most experience with swords, but he wasn’t an idiot, either. “The first break, near the center, that’s been there for a long time. Since the last time it was used. The other happened when I tried to block a halberd.”

“A halberd?” Edward clicked his tongue and shook his head. “This thing’s magic is supposed to make it impossible to break, but you’re telling me a halberd did it in?”

“Edward, if I may,” started Sybyll.

“Again with that speech of yours! Of course you ‘may’!” Even though his words were heated, they lacked any sort of edge. It occurred to Galen that, as long as it’d been since Edward and Sybyll had seen each other, there was still some sort of understanding between each other. A silent envy welled up within him.

“The sword is only strong and true if the mind of the one who wields it is as well. There are good reasons for Galen’s breaking it--“ An awkward pause snuck into her sentence, and Galen saw her eyes flick to him. “--and the other break as well, I believe.”

“Yeah, yeah, I wasn’t questioning anyone who held the blade. Thing’s heavy, I know that much.” Galen got the feeling Edward wasn’t talking about him. “Just lamenting my work a little.”

Galen bit his lip. Someone had to ask. “So… do you think you can fix it?”

“Eh?” Edward spun around. “You ask any other blacksmith in the world, you’d probably be shit outta luck. But fortunately for you, I ain’t any other blacksmith.” He glanced back at the pieces on the bench. “Yeah, I can do this. Would probably be a touch easier with one of them mages around, but lucky for them, they didn’t catch whatever I did when I made this thing.” He went about sliding the blade back into its sheath. “Usually when you melt iron back down, breaking the bonds in the metal will do the same to the magic. But if you know a thing or two about enchantments and metal, you can melt it without breaking the bonds, and then when it cools again, everything lines up nicely with just a little direction. Kinda like a doctor cuttin’ someone open. If you know where all the important stuff is, you can avoid damaging it and just get to the stuff that needs repairing, then a few stitches and everything heals up nice. Plus, magic’s pretty resilient on its own. Even broken like this, I’ll bet Toneruth has done a few interesting things.”

“You could say that,” said Galen.

Edward got back a bit of his smile. “That’s a good sign. I’m assuming you need this fixed as soon as possible, with all the rush you came to me.”

“Yes. Please.” His face fell. “I’m afraid I don’t have any money, though.”

“Screw money. If I could just have a little chat with Sybyll, here, I’ll think I’d have all the payment I could ask for.”

Sybyll smiled. She actually smiled! Galen almost got caught up with it and smiled himself, but something held him back, maybe the avalanche of relief tumbling down through his muscles.

“It would be my pleasure,” said Sybyll.

“That’s settled, then,” said Edward, picking Toneruth up. “I’ll get on this right away. Probably’ll take till tomorrow during the day sometime. Wish I could have a better estimate for you, but it’s been a long time since I’ve tested my skills like this.” He pointed to a doorway Galen hadn’t given any attention before. Looking through it, he saw a bed and some simple furniture. “That’s where I usually sleep, but since I won’t be doin’ that tonight, you should rest there. Inns in this city are a pain, especially with your monster friends.” Edward glanced over them. “With all the rumors goin’ around, you’d be lucky to find anyone to host you.” Galen opened his mouth to protest--he’d slept outside plenty of times, he could do it again without taking over Edward’s home--but Edward raised a hand to silence him. “I’ve got quite a job ahead of me, don’t have time to argue. Something tells me you’re gonna need a good night’s rest, and you can find it there. Sybyll?” He walked out a side door giving Galen, Seira, and Mino a glimpse of the forge and other tools sitting outside. Sybyll was right behind him, though she stopped to give them all a nod before the door closed behind her.

The sudden, unexpected silence which filled the room made Galen forget whatever he was thinking about.

“Well, that was something,” said Mino. “But I’m tired! So I think I’ll find a nice bucket to relax in and call it a day.” She went over to the corner, swiped one of the buckets Edward probably used for holding water, and skipped along to the bedroom with it in hand.

At least she had no qualms making herself at home. Galen shifted his mouth back and forth, staring at the bed like he expected it to get up and start walking around. Even so freely offered, sleeping in someone else’s personal bed was no less than an invasion. The sheets and pillow probably smelled like Edward, the mess inside, so foreign to Galen, was something Edward woke up to every day. If Galen asked him to pick out any object from the mess, Edward would probably know exactly where it was. The furniture had its own imprint as well, dark shadows cast by no light.

A large paw slapped him on his shoulder, sending a fresh ache through it.

“He was right about needing a good night’s rest. Tomorrow we’re going to be setting sail for Medusuub’s castle, and good luck getting a good rest at sea in the little thing Poseidon lent us. Knowing you, you’ll be too jumpy to rest, anyways.” She spoke with a comforting smile, but something felt off about it. Galen couldn’t tell if it was Seira or him… or both of them.

“I guess you’re right.”

Galen cautiously walked into Edward’s bedroom and sat on the bed, half-expecting it to break after taking any weight. It’d be just his luck to break something of Edwards, especially after he said he’d repair Toneruth for free. Opting to lie atop the sheets, Galen rested his head on Edward’s pillow. Whatever feathers might have once kept it soft and fluffy were worn and dwindling; Galen could feel the bed touching the back of his head. He heard Seira rolling up in a corner she’d cleared of any loose items, letting her tail flop to the floor and her wings retract and using her paws as a pillow. Those things must make a pretty good pillow, thought Galen. His eyes turned to the ceiling and he closed his eyes, trying as he might to block out the world around him and find some rest.

  
**

  
The forge flared up as Edward pumped more and more air into the flame. Sybyll sat on a modest wooden chair a fair distance away, making sure to give Edward the space he needed, while watching him work with a mix of fondness and curiosity. He wielded the forge like any other tool, his weapons in the coming battle with the enchanted iron before him. He’d pulled out a book of references and charts, eyeing them while his body worked automatically. If he truly had kept the smithing business his entire life, there could be no flaw left in his procedure, mistakes being washed out by the relentless river of time and repetition.

Mumbling something, he held a hand over the broken pieces of Toneruth, igniting a small purple light in the pieces which faded shortly after it appeared. He checked the pieces one last time, nodding to himself before he finally laid two of them them over flame.

“You know, when I saw you back there, I wasn’t sure if you were gonna kill me or not.”

“Kill you?” Her seat had become uncomfortable. “Why would I kill you?”

“’Cause of what I did to you.” He leaned up against a wall, the night hiding none of the sobriety in his eyes. “Even now, I feel like I ain’t so sure of what’s goin’ on in that head a’ yours. The way you talk ain’t just weird, it downright frightens me.”

“What you did…?” Edward had always had a penchant for talking ahead of the conversation. Sybyll thought he did it because he liked when people asked him what he was talking about so he could feel smarter in explaining it to them, but something told her he wasn’t doing it intentionally at the moment. “I can assure you: you have no reason to fear me.”

“Suppose so. But I also suppose anything you did to me would be well-deserved.” His eyes dug into Sybyll so harsh she could feel it, but all she could offer him was curiosity, confusion. “Ah, maybe it’s just monsters are better at dealing with this sort of thing.” He walked back to the forge, tongs in hand, and checked the heating metal, but from his stance, Sybyll guessed it was more an excuse to get moving. His legs were itching to pace.

“You’re wonderin’, aren’t you?” He lowered the tongs, still staring into the heat of the forge. “How I’m still suffering life?”

“Yes. You’ve hardly aged since I last saw you.”

He forced a laugh. “You know, if I was to get stuck at a certain age, I’d have preferred it to be about fifteen years younger.” He shook his head. “I’ve been involved in a lot of curious jobs during my time as a smith. Swords for knights, for kings, for peddlers. Knives, scepters, axes, maces, enchanted or not. Nothing ever like Tellus. All the other weapons I made took lives after they left my shop, but Tellus was the only one to claim a life in the forge.”

“Did one of the mages die during the forging?”

“Eh?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Nah, nothin’ like that. I was talkin’ about you. You offered your life, and we were all too quick to take it, burn it into this damned iron.” Sybyll didn’t know how to respond, so she kept to herself. “As for my oddly-extended life, it had to be something with the mages, some part of the process they miscalculated or didn’t understand quite as much as they thought they did. While we were traveling together, they told me they’d studied and researched damn near everything between the two of them. Resurrection, turning iron to gold, mind control, reversing monster transformations, and, well, immortality.”

“Then creating Tellus is what gave you such a long life.”

“That’s how I figure it, though not knowing the truth of it for sure is going to bug me until I finally give out.”

Sybyll’s eyes flicked away and back to Edward several times.

“Yeah, I know what you’re wondering. When will I give out?” He shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe in another thousand years. Maybe I’ll someday work up the strength to end it myself. Could be you and I will have the same kinda lifespan.” The light of the forge flickered in his eyes. “I know we made Tellus to last forever, but nothing ever truly does. Metal rusts, breaks apart, and returns to the earth. Even the earth itself will meet it’s end somehow.” He wiped the forming sweat off his mustache. “Maybe that’s why humans are suppose’ta have short lives. So they don’t spend all this time wondering about how things are gonna end.”

“I do not give such thoughts much of my own time,” said Sybyll, laying one leg over the other. “Where I am, there much for me to do. Thinking of the end of things, the end of myself, would only distract me.”

“Much for you to do? That always true? I only know of the one time this sword has been used, that Solvet lad, but that doesn’t mean no one else has touched it.”

A knot caught in Sybyll’s throat. “It… it has been. Always true. Though, no one else besides him and Galen have used it.”

“1400 years and you’ve only known two wielders?” His head twitched as if he might say more, but he decided against it. “Ah, none of my business, anyways.”

“1382. And nearly 400 of them were spent in sleep.”

“Mm,” he said, nodding. “Forgot about that little feature.” He poked at the metal with his tongs, testing its strength. The color was about right. “The kid said one of these breaks didn’t happen while he was using it. Said the last guy who had it was at fault, and if only two people have used it, that means Solvet did it.” He watched her out of the corner of his eye. “You happen to know anything about that?”

His eye was almost like a challenge, his voice curiosity with an edge. Sybyll swapped her legs’ position. “No. It happened while I slept.”

“Of course. But I bet you got a damn good idea why it happened.”

She cocked her head slightly. Why did it matter? “I am not sure. I knew nothing of what happened after the Scar was cut.”

“C’mon, Sybyll. I know you’re smarter than that. If just one guy used the blade, then it had to break in his hands, and with as long as you were with him, you had to have known what his goals were. Where he was heading. What possibly could have led him into a situation in which the blade could break, despite all the use beforehand leaving it intact.”

Maybe she could make a somewhat educated guess, but still, what was the point? The break was made, and Edward was here, now, repairing it. The way he referred to Tellus, she had guessed he didn’t care too much for what adventures it had been on. He hadn’t asked about anything else in its past, either, so what was so important about this one event?

“Tellus’ more likely to break if the wielder doesn’t have a strong will, doesn’t know why he’s wielding it.”

Yes, that was how the sword functioned. Sybyll’s face grew in intensity the longer she thought on the point, her features becoming harder and harder right up until her realization. Her focus grew fierce.

“You’ve spoken with Cea.”

He lazily waved the tongs back and forth, in a dismissive gesture. “A guy gets a little curious and lonely when he lives so long. Yeah, I saw her a couple hundred years back and we talked about a few things. But that doesn’t take a thing away from my question.”

“Is your intent to provoke me?”

A sharp guffaw rose from his belly and out his mouth. “Ha! Provoke you? That what you really think? No, I’m just trying to get you to think about something that you probably need to think about. If it’s really been 500 years since that man made that cut with Tellus and you still haven’t given things the proper consideration, then you hands-down with the competition for denial and avoidance.”

“There is no ‘denial’ or ‘avoidance’, Edward.” Her voice deepened and grew edges. “It was a matter of necessity. Of Duty. I have accept--“

“Duty!” Edward kicked the ground. “That thrice-damned word again. Fuckin--is it because you’re a lizardman, you’re this dense? Or because you’re a monster? Cause if you were human, I could just call you crazy.”

“I am of sound mind.”

“Then why are you still hiding it? ‘For want of self’, Sybyll. They didn’t give you that thing because you were being arrogant. In fact, I think it’s more arrogant to hide it.”

“I do not understand of what significance it is to you, or why you seem so bothered by my choice in the matter.”

“Because I’m an idiot who happened who happens to know you, and I give a damn about how you’re doing.”

“There is no need for concern. My life is acceptable.”

“’Acceptable’? Who the hell says, ‘My life is acceptable’ with pride?”

“I--” Wait. Her eyes softened, and the etched ridges on her face faded away. Hadn’t she already had this conversation? She thought back, back, back to the beginning of her journey. A mere day after she had met Galen, he’d said something.

‘What kind of way is that to look at your life? Just ‘acceptable’? It should be great, or heading toward it!’

Edward was old, emotional, and had been away from her a long time. There was much he didn’t know about her and she could find fault in his position should she search hard enough. But Galen had come to the same conclusion on his own. Her hand unconsciously went to her belt, where the simple iron sword Galen had given her rested. The thumb of her claw traced circles on the end of the hilt. What was wrong with simple contentment? Was it a sin to just be fine with things? Why did Galen frown at her so, and why was Edward so intent on making her look to her past? Those event were over with, useful only for learning from and moving on. She tried happiness in the past, and she had her fair share of it, but the world had made it clear her duty would not let such things persevere. She would outlive her mate, or disappear as part of her duty to the sword. No amount of arguing or self-reflection could change that.

Why won’t these people just leave her be?

“Fuck!”

Sybyll’s head snapped to Edward. He was sucking his finger, cursing as well as he could and stomping a foot on the ground.

“Thousand years of this shit and I still manage to burn myself.”

“I am disrupting your focus. I will leave.” But she hardly left the seat before Edward snapped back at her.

“No, you’ll sit there and you’ll be quiet until I say so. Like it or not, I need you here for this.”

She sat back down, wondering if he needed her as part of the procedure or for his own sake. Hanging her head, she closed her eyes. She’d prefer if it was the latter.

**Chapter 37**

Galen opened his eyes. The same ceiling he’d said goodnight to greeted him, dark and emotionless. He shifted around on the unfamiliar bed, turning left, then right, then staring straight up again. A foreign room filled with foreign shadows and an air of unnatural peace surrounded him. It wasn’t morning--this didn’t feel like morning. In fact, he’d hardly fallen asleep at all. Laying the back of his hand against his forehead, he groaned. Not an ounce of fatigue pulled at his body, but rather the plague of lucidity. There was no way he’d be getting any amount of sleep like this. He forced himself up, an action which took more effort than it should’ve and brought him back in full to the world of the present. He was in Edward Smith’s room, waiting for Toneruth to be repaired. Seira was still curled up in her spot, Mino an undisturbed pool in her bucket. Sometimes she kept her human-like form when she slept, sometimes she didn’t, but he’d never asked her why. Maybe tomorrow.

Silent as he could, he slipped out of bed and into the main room, Edward’s workroom, and was faced with two doors on opposite sides of the room. One door led to the front while the other led to the forge, where Sybyll and him were talking. Well, Galen assumed they were talking--he couldn’t hear anything from them at the moment. While he wouldn’t mind listening in to whatever they had to say, eavesdropping didn’t sit well with him and he didn’t want to disturb Edward by joining in. Besides, Galen didn’t need to stay up all night talking. He needed to clear his head and find some drowsiness so he could get some sleep. With careful steps, he made to the front door, then slipped away, keeping the building between him and the forge as not to be noticed.

The salt in the air immediately assaulted his nose and tiny droplets settled on his skin. The sea never slept, always throwing itself at the cliffs nearby. It was the only mark of violence in the night; the city kept silent and the sky, clear. Unsure steps crossed rocky ground. Galen’s eyes never came off the ground right in front of him for more than a second. Seira’s or Sybyll’s eyesight would have come in handy right now, he thought, but he managed well enough. He didn’t travel far. He just wanted a small area to himself to think. Once sufficiently far from the house, he carefully made his way near the cliff’s edge and sat.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would see if Edward really could fix Toneruth. Tomorrow Sybyll would teach him the greatest secret of the sword--how to wield it with the same power Solvet had. Tomorrow he would leave the city, just as he promised his father, but not to go back to Nox. Would his father try to force him to leave on a different ship to make sure Galen was headed back home? Would he be ready for what Sybyll had to say? What if he couldn’t do it? The only time he had awoken Toneruth was in the heat of the Scorched Lands, and he had claimed three--no, two--lives with it. 

So much was going to happen tomorrow, but even more waited for him the day after, the day they broke into Medusuub’s castle and tried to claim her life. They would find out if Ahdria’s little ‘key’ would do what she promised, and if it did, Galen would have to pay the price he promised. They would have to fight through whatever allies and guards she had there, something no one in the group had even brought up yet. Maybe Sybyll had a plan; she wasn’t one to let something so important by. And after they made their way to Medusuub, assuming Toneruth could even break through The Covenant, could he bring himself to strike with Red Lightning once more, knowing what would happen to the monster he struck?

“You couldn’t sleep, either?”

Galen snapped out of his daze, turning to the voice he knew so well. “I guess not.”

She sat down next to him, comfortably close as usual, sharing her heat with Galen as she looked over the sea alongside him. “You know, I’ve been waiting for this for thirty years, and now it’s come upon me so quickly I don’t know whether to feel nervous or excited. There’s a mixture of both and neither one of them will let me sleep.”

Part of him wanted to be mad at her. She was getting the revenge she always wanted out of this, and Galen was going to be the tool through which she achieved it. She may have even been planning this from the beginning, when he told her about Toneruth. At the same time, however, part of him wondered how he might feel had Medusuub come to Nox and slaughtered everyone there. Could he still find room for anger at someone who so feverishly sought recompense? 

“I don’t feel any excitement,” he said.

“That makes sense for you.” She patted his head with one of her beefy paws. “I’d be worried if things were any different.”

“I hate it.”

She took her paw away, turning from the sea to stare at him. “Why’s that?”

“Because the more I think about everything, the more I fear you’re right. You and my dad.”

“Your dad? He said something about this while you were talking with him?”

“Not really. I didn’t tell him enough about what we were planning for him to say anything. If I did, he’d have never let me past the dock. I’d have been sent straight back home.” Galen leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. His arms felt awkward not doing anything. “But if he were to say something, I know he’d agree with you. It’s so… suffocating. He’s always too willing to compromise, like there’s no way to ever really have what you want.”

“That’s just the way of the world, Galen. Everyone wants something, often in conflict with someone else, and there isn’t infinite of anything, so you can’t get what you want without some kinda sacrifice. No point in brooding over what you can’t have, just make the best of what you do have.”

“Then what good are dreams if you’re just going to compromise those away, too? Doesn’t that dishearten you at all? And why did you tell me to fight for the ‘stupid things’ back in Fullburg if you don’t think there’s any point in it?”

Seira’s gaze found the ground, the remnants of a gentle smile twisting into a frown of thought. Her paw absentmindedly grabbed Galen’s arm, holding lightly, there only for the sake of touch. “Assume everything goes as planned for the rest of our trip. We get Toneruth fixed, we sail to Medusuub’s castle, get inside and kill her without any trouble. The war is stopped, the monster army scatters, and I take charge. That’s the best-case scenario. Now think back to when you started your adventure. You wanted to get Toneruth to prove your worth, you wanted to be an adventurer so your dad and your village could be proud, you wanted to be a hero who saved the world, even. You got everything you asked for, didn’t you? But something tells me you’re thinking it wasn’t quite what you wanted.” She squeezed his arm. “That’s reality. You never compromised your dream--no one ever asked you to, and it’s no one’s fault. Yet, here you are.”

Galen didn’t take his eyes off the sea. If he looked at Seira, he would be acknowledging everything she said, but… but she wasn’t wrong. No, it’s not just that she wasn’t wrong, it was that she was exactly right. All the things he touted as wonderful, exciting, and rewarding he’d achieved. He had Toneruth. He had been on daring, tense adventures with real consequence and come out on top. If he’d been the same Galen who started this journey, he’d probably be ecstatic, but the elation of everything fantastic that had happened couldn’t compete with the weight of all he had failed and the two lives he had taken.

He twitched when he felt Seira’s tail curl around his back and lay atop his lap. He felt none of the intent Seira usually had when he tail went into action, but instead an odd sort of serenity. When her paw laid atop his far shoulder and pulled him in, his suspicions rose.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m using you to keep warm.” A simple statement, spoken as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. It wasn’t meant to fool anyone of anything, but rather keep the truth of the moment unsaid where it had value.

Galen allowed himself to lean his head on Seira’s shoulder. “You know, manticores aren’t supposed to be like this.”

“No, they’re not supposed to be.”

He wasn’t about to complain, of course. The longer he spent with Seira, the more she changed, just as Galen did. He’d never asked if his change was as obvious as her own, but he didn’t feel like asking. It could’ve been fear that held him back, but maybe he liked the mystery. Seira kept a bit of mystery about herself, why couldn’t he, too?

He remembered back in the forest after catching up with Seira, she had a hard enough time just sitting down next to him. Everything that came out of his mouth seemed to bug her somehow. That might even be true now, though if it was she’d gotten much better at hiding her annoyance. Galen’s hand twitched. That was a terrifying thought--did she simply tolerate him? She was the crafty manticore who’d evaded Medusuub’s assassins for decades. Faking a bit of fondness wouldn’t be beyond her. Even so, something told him she wasn’t faking, her personality wasn’t a façade. If all she truly did was tolerate him, why was she out here, warming herself up with him?

Galen wet his lips. It didn’t feel cold at all to him. In fact, a great warmth welled within his chest, hotter than anything else he’d ever felt, a blaze above his gut. He fidgeted around, trying to squirm away from the heat, but nothing could disrupt it. No matter how hot it may have burned, he never sweated, never felt a burn or fever, just that alien heat. Seira’s skin radiated a similar heat where his head touched her shoulder. Maybe she felt it too? 

Sighing, Galen absentmindedly rubbed his left shoulder, realizing only after the action that it had started to ache. Ever since Fullsburg, it had flared up at the oddest times. Maybe after all this was over with, he’d find a doctor who could do something about it.

“What’s it like to want revenge so badly?”

With his ear against her skin, he heard her heart skip a beat. “That’s… that’s not a feeling you should want to know. Or even have anything to do with.”

“Then why do you hold onto it?”

“I don’t have a choice.” Her tail curled around him tighter. “I have to do something, or else my family’s lives will have ended for nothing. I hold onto it because someone out there deserves punishment for what they did, and I’m the only one who remembers why. Without it, it feels like the world couldn’t possibly work, like life has some glaring flaw and I have to fix it to go on. It’s a terrible thing, and I will be glad to be done with it.”

“Can’t you be done with it now? I mean, you’re the one holding onto it. It sounds like such a horrible feeling. If it’s so bad, just let it go.”

Her paw rubbed his shoulder. “I know what you’re trying to do, Galen. It’s just not that simple. I’d say you’d understand if you were in the same position, but really, I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone. You can’t just let it go--you might as well be ripping off your own arm.”

Galen’s lips had dried out again. When he licked them, he tasted salt. “Will you be happy when you have your revenge?”

That one struck something. Her back straightened, her head rose and her other paw dug into her leg where it rested. She stared forward, trying to hide how much she thought about the question, but Galen could hear everything going on in her body and had known her too long to let such a thing get by unnoticed.

“I don’t know. I don’t think revenge is supposed to make you happy.”

“Then what is it supposed to do?”

“Make you whole.”

The wind whistled from the south, but still Galen felt no cold. He couldn’t feel the sea, the rocky earth beneath him, the call of the sky, the moonlight bearing down through broken clouds. He knew only heat, heat, heat, burning heat, within his chest, in his ears, in his mouth, his mind, his feet, his hands. All the emptiness in the sky could not hold this heat should he belch it out in a mighty roar.

“How can you become whole from causing more pain? Is the only way to fill yourself up by taking away from someone else? I can’t accept that.”

Instead of a grumble and a lecture about his ignorance, Seira’s face softened into a smile. “I guess you’ll just have to prove me wrong, then.”

“Are you sure you’re a manticore?”

His eyes weren’t open to see her smile disappear. “Completely.”

  
**

  
“Hey!”

Galen’s eyes opened to an emphatic slime atop him, shaking his shoulders.

“It’s time to get up!” Mino shook him again, even after seeing him open his eyes.

“Alright, alright!” Mino hopped off and he sat up, but was immediately assaulted by a wave a drowsiness. His head became so heavy it almost fell right back down onto the pillow.

Wait, pillow? Galen scratched his hair and looked around. He was back in Edward’s bedroom, though from the light spilling in the doorway, he could tell it wasn’t night any more. He must’ve fallen asleep on Seira, which meant…

His eyes shot to the wall opposite Mino. It had suddenly become very interesting. Thankfully, Seira was no longer in the room to see his face, but Mino would notice it immediately if he let her. It’d been a long time since he’d been so caught off-guard in the morning--usually he caught morning by surprise instead of the other way around. He swung his feet off the bed, shaking his head in an effort to wake up.

“I’m up Mino. Go back to the other room.”

She obeyed silently and Galen got to his routine. Hopefully getting the blood flowing would set his burning face back to normal. After finishing his morning routine, he left the bedroom and was enthusiastically welcomed into the day.

“Afternoon, lazy.”

At least there was one thing about this day he was familiar with.

“Afternoon?”

Seira leaned back in her chair. “Yup. You’ve been out cold for quite a while. Mino woke you up because Edward just finished up.”

“He’s finished?” Did that mean Galen had slept really late, or Edward had been especially quick? “Where is Toneruth, then?”

“Right here.” Edward walked inside, the wood creaking under his footsteps. He held out Toneruth, secure in its sheath, though with a noticeable new layer of polish. “Like that? Figured it’d be nice to add a little extra touch to it.” When Galen could only stare, Edward pushed it toward him. “Go on, kid. Have a look.”

Galen slowly extended his hands, gripping Toneruth as if he’d never seen it before. It hadn’t changed in appearance, true, and the weight was the same as he remembered, but somehow it felt different. Maybe it was the balance, or maybe it was all in his head. His hand slipped up the sheath to the guard, then the hilt, fingers squeezing the woven patterns with a shaking excitement. A tiny silver sliver grew. The bladed half reflected a gentle curve and smooth ripple, the dull side did nothing but make the sharp half more impressive. Galen’s eyes widened when he passed the point of the first break. Nothing. Not a single mark, as if Toneruth had been forged that very day. Same with the second break. Only when the cold, unbroken blade was free from its sheath in its entirety did Galen allow himself the freedom to breathe.

It dawned on him that, as long as he’d carried Toneruth, this was the first time he’d held it in full, as a true weapon, the same he knew from legend. The balance was perfect, and even its weight was unnaturally easy on his hand for the weapon’s size. In length, it was only a touch longer than his original longsword, but the liquid curve and silver sheen gave it’s reach the illusion of pike’s. His hand shook with emotion, though he couldn’t make out which hit him the hardest. Perhaps it was fear.

“Wow.”

Edward slapped a nearby table, throwing his head back in hearty laugh. “Wonderful! That’s exactly what I was aiming for!” His brilliant smile drew Galen in. “Who said old people can’t have their own bit of fun?” He turned back to the door he’d come in through. “Well, Sybyll? Does it look like you remember? Or better?”

Everyone’s attention went to the door as Sybyll stepped inside, her expression colder than Galen remembered. Or maybe more intent was a better description? Her eyes took in the new Toneruth, sliding from the hilt to the blade tip. “Better, I think.”

“Does it feel any different? To you?” asked Galen.

“I have to admit to experiencing a touch of… queasiness as Edward heated and hammered the pieces back together, but now that it is whole, I feel no different than before.”

“Huh.” He knew Sybyll had said before she didn’t really care whether the sword was whole or not as far as her well-being was concerned, but he figured repairing Toneruth would make her feel more energetic or something. In the end, though, it wasn’t a big deal. There was still much he didn’t understand about the sword.

With care and a smooth motion, he slid Toneruth back in its sheath, finding an unexpected satisfaction in hearing the click of the guard hitting on the sheath.

“Thank you for repairing Toneruth,” said Galen, offering Edward a hand. “I still wish I could give you something in return.”

“Gah,” Edward said. He slapped his hand to Galen’s, returning the handshake heartily. “I think you’re picking up some formality from Sybyll. Don’t let her get to you too much. And don’t worry ‘bout payment. I said I’m happy with what I got--leave it at that.”

Galen smiled. “Well, I guess that’s that. Thanks for everything.”

“Ah!” Edward raised a finger. “You can’t leave quite yet. I think, before you go, it’d be best if I taught you something about Toneruth.”

Galen cocked his head, but said nothing. Edward gestured for the sword and Galen returned it to him. With much more grace than Galen had done so, he freed the sword from it’s sheath. Laying the sheath down beside him, Edward held the bare blade out to Galen and began to explain.

“Mages gave me a complicated speech about all the important properties and whatnot, but I’ve had to kinda hammer down their ramblings into something I could understand. The short of it is: The sword stands for itself.”

Galen looked up. “Huh?”

“You know how if somethin’ is used to mean something beyond itself, like an idea or somethin’, it’s a symbol? Take, uh, scales, for example. All they do is compare the weight of the things on them, but people also use them to represent fairness or maybe justice. Toneruth is kinda like that, but what it stands for is itself.”

“I’m not sure I really follow. Wouldn’t standing for itself just be redundant? Not mean anything?” 

“Not quite. Here, take a closer look. Each part is forged with dual purpose.” He switched his grip to pinch the blade and hilt, running his fingers over the texture in the hilt. “The grip’s coarseness is meant to dig into your hand whenever you swing it around it to remind you of the power you hold, to keep you uneasy and wary of the weapon itself.” Slipping his hand up near the point, he moved the blade’s flat side closer to Galen’s eyes. “Pay attention to the detail in the metal. See the ripples? On a simple inspection, you would not notice this, but if you were to pay attention, such important details would reveal themselves.”

Squinting, Galen moved his eyes closer to the metal. He thought Edward was talking about the waviness reflected in the light on the sharp side of the blade, but he soon found his error. There were many different ripples in the metal, like tiny drops disturbing a pond in hundreds of different places at once, though without the perfectly-circular structure. The ripples were bent and warped.

“What are those from?”

“They come from the metal used, and from the spells welded into the metal. They’re also meant to represent how the sword is not what it seems at first glance, and that with careful attention, you can reveal the many different uses of the blade.”

“That’s incredible.” Galen didn’t really have any other words for it. Sure, he knew Toneruth had been carefully crafted by the best mages and blacksmith at the time, but it was another thing to witness the detail and hear it for himself. He met eyes with Edward. The blacksmith was definitely more than Galen had first thought. He pulled his head back from Toneruth. “Well, thanks for telling me. That’s really cool.”

Edward nodded, sliding Toneruth back into its sheath. As he handed it back to Galen, however, he had more to say. “As ‘cool’ as it is, I didn’t tell you just for amusement’s sake. The guys who made this were really damn smart; I’d be lying if even I knew every little thing this sword could do. The magic was the tricky part, I just melted some metal and whacked it with a hammer as it cooled. You shouldn’t underestimate the range of the sword’s abilities, but, at the same time, you shouldn’t overestimate yourself while you’re using it. It can cut into the land, sky, and sea, but an arrow to the heart will still kill you, even if you’re holdin’ this thing. Got it?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Taking a deep breath, Edward gave Galen one last smile. “Good.” He turned to Sybyll, Seira, and Mino. “Was good to have all you here, so if you’re ever ‘round a again, or for some reason you break that thing again--“ he shot Galen a look as he said that “--feel free to stop by.”

Galen nodded. Edward was sure to have a hundred great stories to tell, maybe even better than his father’s, but Galen didn’t have time to stick around and listen to them all. In fact, as soon as he saw the blade was repaired, something very specific had been on his mind, something Sybyll had promised two nights ago.

The group set out from Edward’s house, but they hadn’t gotten far at all before Sybyll called for them to stop. Galen knew why.

“This would be an adequate location,” she said as she looked around. “There is some open space and we best do this as soon as we’re able.”

“Do what?” asked Seira.

Galen swallowed. As much as he wanted to learn, his anxiety wasn’t predisposed to disappear just for that. “She’s going to teach me how to really use Toneruth.”

“’Really use it’?” said Seira.

“I need to be able to cut like Solvet did.”

“Ah. Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“I’m afraid we will need to do this in private,” said Sybyll.

“Huh?” Seira put her paws on her hips. “Why’s that? I was kinda curious about it.”

“Me too!” Mino piped in.

“Various reasons,” said Sybyll. “Unfortunately, stating them would defeat the purpose of our privacy. I am sorry.”

Seira shrugged. “Whatever. Just get on with it.”

Sybyll nodded and began walking toward an open area closer to the cliffs. Galen was torn, but only for a moment. After glancing back at Seira and Mino, he hurried off to catch up with Sybyll.

This was it. Just like Solvet 500 years before him, Galen would learn how to cut with force to tear the earth asunder, how to send the searing red lightning leagues into the sky, how to shake the world with deafening power. Forget ‘going on an adventure’ or ‘making his parents proud’, Galen would be tearing apart the very core of the monster hierarchy. He’d be ending a war before it could start. His heart thudded in his chest so hard it was like it wanted him to reach in and tear it out so it could beat all the more viciously. He suppressed the urge to do exactly that, keeping his eyes forward and on Sybyll. That same stone stare he was used to had returned. While it was nice to see her smile at Edward’s house, he was much more used to her more stoic expressions. If she was teaching him how to use Toneruth with a smile, he might doubt the integrity of her lesson.

“This will be a short lesson,” she said. “Teaching you how to unleash Toneruth is simple enough--you’ve actually already done so in one fashion, and creating another Scar just adds another step to that. What I must tell you before that step are the consequences of cutting with Toneruth in this way.”

“C-consequences?” She must have been talking about something other than the obvious fact that anyone hit by Toneruth’s attack would die--and that alone gave Galen enough grief.

“Indeed. The first is that the sword cannot be used in any extraordinary capacity for a long period of time afterwards. It will cut through armor and attack will instead of flesh like before, but otherwise, it will be the same as any other sword.”

Galen gave a curt nod. That made sense. “How long is ‘a long period of time’?”

“After the last Scar was cut, the sword was incapable for nearly 400 years.”

He answered with a gaping mouth. Four--four hundred years?! She definitely wasn’t lying when she said ‘long’! “That’s… that’s a really long time.”

“Yes, it is.”

Swallowing a lungful of air, he calmed himself back down. Such a drawback was unfortunate, but easily worth stopping a war. Besides, he wasn’t even sure if he wanted to use Toneruth’s ‘special’ powers any more after this. They seemed to always lead to trouble.

“Alright, what’s next?”

“I will be banished from the world for the same amount of time.”

That took a moment to register. The color drained from his face and the questions rose up on instinct. “What, what? Why?!”

“I was told it was because the sword loses all ability to project me out into the world, and must hibernate my soul due to the diminished amount of magic within. Only after those hundreds of years drawing power for the world can it support my waking mind and whatever actions I take. Of course, this also means that after the hibernation period, I will be unable to interact with the world again except for the sword’s wielder, and only after the bond with the wielder is re-forged can I--“

“Wait just a damn second! Don’t--“ Galen squeezed his eye shut in a hard blink. “Don’t talk about disappearing with such, such composure! You’re not just disappearing, Sybyll, you’re dying!”

“I can see how you would interpret it that way, as humans have such short lives in comparison, but the sword was meant to endure, and as such, a few hundred years--“

“Stop! I told you not to talk like that! I just met you like, a month ago! You can’t disappear so quickly! If we stop this war, you have to be around to celebrate!”

“That’s hardly a necessary requirement, and with the plan we have chosen, impossible. You should not be distressing yourself so.”

“Distressing myself?” Galen stomped up to Sybyll, seizing the collar of her tight armor and squeezed it with all his might. Sybyll didn’t react but for a glance at his hands. “You spent so long alone, doing nothing but waiting for someone to find the sword, and only a month after someone found it, you’re about to disappear again! Not only that, your friends will all be gone! Cea, Seira, maybe even Edward! Aren’t you going to miss this? Aren’t you afraid you’re going to forget? You said yourself, your memory blurs the more time passes. Can’t you come up with even a bit of worry for yourself?”

“I was chosen to be a part of Toneruth for many reasons. One of those reasons is because I understood the importance of my duty. I cannot let some selfish desires prevent me from doing what I must.”

Duty. That word again. No wonder Edward reacted so harshly to it. It had taken Sybyll and twisted her into something he couldn’t recognize any more, someone who so lacked thought of themselves you couldn’t really tell if they were real or not. Something had to have gone wrong somewhere, maybe in her youth, maybe it was the magic of the sword, or maybe the years had slowly drained what sense of self she had until there was nothing left, but Sybyll couldn’t possibly be called ‘fine’. And yet, only now did Galen finally see it. His hands went limp, falling off of Sybyll’s stone figure as if they had no more strength to hold on.

‘The old Sybyll’d be fightin’ it tooth and claw every step of the way,’ Edward had said. What could fate possibly have done to her?

“Unleashing the entirety of Toneruth’s power is simple enough. It requires an action, a will, and a direction.” She continued her explanation as if nothing had happened. “The will to draw out Toneruth’s power, an object, person, monster or location on which you focus and direct that will, and finally a swift strike of the sword straight from its sheath. Only in combining the drawing action with the striking action will you successfully be able to Cut. Only with iron will born of certainty and confidence will Toneruth respond. Only with clear motive will the scarlet lightning tear through the world once more.”

Galen’s ears heard every word, but his body hadn’t the will to react. The world had become fuzzy, sounds distant, his thoughts sluggish and imprecise. He swayed where he stood, his eyes focused on Sybyll’s feet. ‘How can you be okay with this?’ he wanted to say. ‘How can I change your mind?’ But, just like Seira’s words last night, the truth of Sybyll’s statements began to seep in through the cracks in his guard, deep into his brain where they tangled with his core. Sacrifices were necessary, this was just another one of them. When weighed against all the lives, monster and human, in this coming war, what was sending Sybyll away for another 400 years?

That, however, wasn’t even the worst of it. For in his heart, her instructions echoed through a grand, empty chamber. He could strike from the sheath, he could send all his intent at a clear target, but he would never be able to do so with even a mustard seed of certainty or confidence. Not when he knew what the blow would do to his enemy, not when he knew what the blow would do to his friends.

Toneruth’s greatest power was completely beyond him.

**Chapter 38**

“Galen. It’s time.”

“Mm,” was all he said, his gaze vacant and outward amongst the stars. Seira had to help him along with a push to get him moving.

Before they had made their way back to the docks, Seira had decided to scout ahead, knowing Galen’s father might not let him leave so easily. She’d been correct. The dock was saturated with soldiers, and Galen’s father had been supervising them. Had they shown up and tried to leave, Galen never would’ve made it to their boat. Seira had also reported the Kraken wasn’t with the boat. She may have been chased off, or was waiting for them underwater. Unfortunately, they had no way to check. When asked what to do, Galen had mumbled about how the Kraken wouldn’t leave them behind, but nothing more. Seira had taken the initiative to plan their escape--nothing complicated, really. The soldiers were likely only looking for Galen, so Sybyll and Mino would go ahead, secure the boat and get the Kraken to disembark. Once clear of the dock, Seira would carry Galen in a short flight and land him right in the boat. With the speed the Kraken could give them and a head start, they’d be able to outrun any pursuers.

“I’ll get up on the rooftops, make sure everything’s fine with Sybyll and Mino and that we still have a clear path. Stay here, and stay alert.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Two sets of eyes went right to the one approaching, relaxing once they saw who it was.

“Sybyll,” said Seira, “What’s wrong? Why did you come back?”

“Our boat is gone, and someone is standing right where it was docked.”

“S-someone?” asked Galen, something of dread entering his voice.

“Your father. It seems he figured out something was amiss. Unfortunately, we cannot take just any boat anchored here. Only the one we were using has an apparatus for the Kraken to pull it by, and the other boats are either too small to make the voyage or too large to be managed by a crew as small as us. Also, I must admit to a lack of knowledge when it comes to sailing.” She crossed her arms. “Our best bet would be to ask your father where the boat has gone.”

Galen bit his lip. He should’ve seen something like this coming. His father wasn’t one to take chances where Galen was concerned, especially after hearing about everything Galen had accomplished on his journey here. “Can we do that, though? Wouldn’t I be captured as soon as I showed my face?”

“Oddly enough, the dock is rather vacant of soldiers at the moment. Mino and I checked the surrounding area; they aren’t waiting in ambush, either. Your father is alone.”

Galen’s eyes darted around, as if hoping to find something that would get them out of the mess thrust upon them. No, thrust upon Galen. His father wasn’t doing this for anyone else. “And I’ll bet the only way we’ll learn where the boat is if I go meet him.”

“That is a safe assumption, yes.”

This time, when Galen bit his lip, he drew blood. Something else atop the mountain of troubles he was already having. But… he did owe this much to his dad, didn’t he? After raising Galen for so many years, after Galen had run out on him so suddenly, after being lenient enough to allow Galen to fix Toneruth--yes, Galen did owe his father at least this much. So, with a grinding of teeth, Galen set out for the docks.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Seira.

Galen said nothing because he knew neither of them wanted to hear the answer.

The walk was much shorter than it needed to be. His legs ate up the distance like a feast, his heart beat as if he was sprinting, and he sweat as if the sun was bearing down directly on him. He needed something to say, but nothing came. There were no excuses to give; Galen didn’t regret leaving on his own, and he had no doubts about his mission--those were all about himself. Yet, as those weighed heavy on his back, his legs kept moving.

Galen raised his head as he entered the dock. Hoem was easy to spot, the only human present, with a convenient line or torches leading right to him. How could he convince a parent, one who knew fighting too well, to let him continue down this path? How could a father give up his only son?

His father watched Galen as closely as Galen watched his father. The aged wood of the dock creaked under his steps, letting out a long, low groan as Galen came to a halt. He left a comfortable distance between his father and himself. They’d done their greeting earlier. This was a negotiation.

Galen expected his father to speak first, but all the man did was cross his arms and wait. No need to say anything now that Galen thought about it. He knew exactly why his father was here.

“I have to go, dad.” He gulped down a knot in his throat. ‘Dad’ seemed like such an odd word choice here. ‘Father’ would’ve worked better.

“And I have to send you away,” Hoem said, uncrossing his arms. “It seems we’re at an impasse.” His eyes scanned over the scene, his brow twitching in concentration. Galen’s friends must’ve been waiting out there somewhere, just as he expected. But they weren’t a part of this.

“Tell me where the boat is.”

“You’ll have to earn that.” Hoem’s eyes snapped right back to Galen. “I won’t try convincing you to go back home--you’ve already shown words don’t quite work that way on you anymore--and I won’t waste your time discussing letting you go where-ever it is you’ve got your mind set on. That stubbornness of yours was inherited from me.”

That knot rose back up, and again Galen swallowed it down. “Then how are we going to get anywhere with this?”

“I thought about what to do here for a while, you know. As soon as I saw that manticore of yours scouting this place out earlier today, I knew you’d try to sneak by, and I had to figure out how to stop you. I could have called all the soldiers to guard the area and capture you as soon as you showed up, or even set a trap for you here, but that’s not the sort of conclusion I could accept and therefore one I knew you wouldn’t accept, either. I knew I had to end this here, tonight.” With a smooth, swift motion, Galen’s father reached for his sword and pulled it free, the metal hissing as it left the scabbard. Galen’s eyes locked onto the gleaming iron. “I could use my position as a captain to stop you, but not accept my decision. Only my position as a father can do that. If I defeat you, you’ll be sent home straightaway and give up on whatever madness you have planned. If you defeat me…” His voice trailed off, that rigid face softening for a moment. “Well, I suppose I’ll have to accept my son can stand up for himself.”

This--this was crazy! Galen wanted to say. A bare-blade duel? Against his father? Sure, he had some experience after his journey and the training from home, but he was still no match for his father. A sword fight wouldn’t last twenty seconds! Then again, what choice did he have? His father knew where the boat was, Hoem had carefully decided this was the only way he’d give up that information. He’d said he wouldn’t waste Galen’s time discussing the matter--it would be disrespectful for Galen to throw that in his face and talk like his father could be any more convinced away from his position than Galen could.

“I can’t spend a single moment doing anything other than moving forward with all my power.”

That wasn’t the first time Galen had said it, and he wasn’t going to back down on his words, not when they mattered the most. His father and he had approached this encounter with a full understanding of the situation. There was no arguing to be had, only action. If the full of Galen’s power couldn’t clear the way, then maybe he would be better off going home.

Galen’s hand dug into Toneruth’s grip and he pulled the sword free. The iron hummed as it cleared the sheath, low and clear, announcing it’s arrival into battle for the first time in hundreds of years. Galen’s other hand joined the first, a dull heat flowing through them as he positioned the blade between his father and himself.

“You repaired it, I see.”

“This isn’t really how I intended to use it, though.”

“That’s how it usually is with swords.”

Hoem leapt in and Galen reacted. Their swords met with a clang that echoed throughout the shadowed, empty docks. Galen could see his father’s face more clearly now, the nearby torches glowing on the etched lines of concentration and weariness. Hoem gave no time for Galen to consider the sight, flicking Toneruth off and going for Galen’s ankles with his next attack. A sharp inhale accompanied Galen’s leap back and he reset his sword’s position. He was quick enough to react to his father’s attacks for the most part, but that was probably a result of youth more than skill. His father had a wealth more of experience, and Galen had learned almost everything about swordfighting from him. While Nox’s master-of-arms was technically the one who taught swordplay, Hoem had never been content with the knowledge Galen brought home and had always sought to build upon it. Nothing Galen could come up with would surprise his father--his only option was to keep up with Hoem’s movements and try to find some sort of pattern or weakness. Galen’s eyes darkened to the tone of the night. Finding something like that would be very difficult, if not impossible for a novice like him.

The next attack came for his hip, forcing Galen to block at an angle he wasn’t used to. The sheer force of the attack almost allowed Hoem’s sword to touch his body, but Galen’s strength was just enough and Toneruth held. Leaping away, Galen had just enough time to reset before Hoem attacked again, this time at the shoulder. This time, Galen caught the attack much more easily, but it turned out the true attack wasn’t aimed at Galen’s shoulder, but to force Galen to block exactly how he did. Hoem’s sword slide rapidly down Toneruth, crashing against the guard and shaking the sword so hard Galen’s grip almost slipped. Gritting his teeth, Galen tossed the attack sword’s tip aside, but just as he moved to cut in retaliation, a kick connected with his gut, forcing him back several steps. He doubled over to cough, but fought hard enough to keep his hands on his sword and his vision straight, allowing him to catch the next attack, a thrust, aimed at his thigh.

“Have you really been fighting monsters while you were gone? Your swordplay is as clumsy as it was when you left.”

Galen grimaced. His father wasn’t wrong, and if the fighting kept up like this, he’d be losing very soon. In truth, he hadn’t really improved in sword fighting against other swordsmen at all. The fights he had won--against the orcs, the lamia, the harpies--were all with the help of his companions and none were using swords. In this fight, his father’s advantages were only growing.

A grunt gave away Galen’s first true attack, a stab at his father’s chest, and it was swatted away with little effort. Galen barely evaded the counterattack with an off-balance hop to the side, and deflected the follow-up aimed at his shoulder--but not well enough. His father’s iron cut through clothes and skin, biting into Galen like a harsh, frozen wind. He cringed, ready for more pain, but it never came. His normally-throbbing shoulder was unusually calm at the moment, and the resulting confusion almost cost Galen another wound on his leg. He backed up enough to give himself time to breath and wipe the sweat from his brow.

His father’s attacks came without interruption and total confidence in their aim. Galen, in contrast, could only wonder where he might be able to sneak aggression in, and every time he tried, Hoem shoved it back in his face two-fold. Where Galen had once known concentration, a burning frustration began to build instead. How was he supposed to win like this? They’d been fighting for minutes, yet his body sagged like it’d been hours. He’d always known Toneruth was heavy, but now it seemed to try to wrench from his hands and fall to the ground. Not only that, but the fact it only had a blade on one side meant he didn’t have the breadth of attacks his father did. Entering this fight had been fruitless, and he was just now realizing it. His arrogance had thought he stood a chance, but now that they’d fought, he could see all the advantages were his father’s. The thought made him grip Toneruth harder. Moping wouldn’t help him. He had to win this fight. He had to think.

The blunt side of his father’s blade rapped Galen in the side of his head, ripping him out of his dozing state and sending him stumbling.

“What are you doing, taking a nap? We’re fighting!”

Galen shook his head, trying to orient himself. He’d never been hit with a sword like that. Using the flat of the blade like that was incredibly inefficient and really only for toying around with someone or knocking them out without killing them. Of course, the sword was a rather terrible tool for the latter. His father must’ve been taking him lightly the entire time.

…or was he?

Several blinks later, Galen could make out his father approaching fast, sword up at the ready. His eyes flickered in the torchlight. No, his father wouldn’t toy around any more than Galen would. They both knew what was on the line, why they had to win. There was no room for foolishness, for hesitation. And if that was the case, the only reason his father would attack like that would mean he was trying to incapacitate Galen. Galen squinted, taking a step back as he blocked his father’s next attack. Of course his father was avoiding killing him--doing so would defeat the entire purpose of this fight. Galen thought back to all the other attacks: they’d been aimed at his legs, his arms, and his sides. Those were all places Galen could take a hit without risk of death. The only attacks at his neck or chest were feints meant to land other hits. Hoem’s sword was probably the worst tool for the job he wanted it to do.

Recognition hit Galen at the same time as his father’s attack, this time his right shin. He cried out and almost lost his footing, but had the presence of mind to duck under a follow-up kick and stumbled away. Toneruth didn’t have the same restriction as his father’s sword. Galen had that one advantage, and that was all he needed. He started deflecting his father’s attack with purpose now, wincing every time he had to put weight on his cut shin. His father’s sword had broken skin at least three times, and those injuries would only lead to more. There was no more time for indecisiveness--he needed to end this, to bet everything on that one advantage and charge through.

‘I must always move forward with everything I am.’

Finally, Hoem’s attack came for the right place. A jab aimed at his shoulder, but Galen didn’t want it connecting there. Galen gritted his teeth, and sent his father’s attack off-course… right for his heart. At the same moment, he stepped forward, into the attack, and brought Toneruth to bear.

Hoem’s strict visage finally broke and he hollered, pulling his sword back and away as quickly as possible, leaving himself open and off-balance. Galen screamed at the wave of instinct pushing him away from his father, the instinct that told him a sword strike would truly kill. His entire body tensed, his hands dug into Toneruth with every ounce of his strength, and he shoved the blade into his father’s chest.

A wicked hiss and rasping cry met Galen’s ears as a frigid cold rushed up Toneruth into his hands and arms, the familiar touch of it’s power. Still tense as a drawstring, Galen yanked Toneruth free and took a step back, watching his father with wild concern and curiosity. Was it over?

Hoem’s sword fell to the dock with a clang as the man himself dropped to a knee, seizing the wound with all the strength his weakened body could muster. “Guuh!” he coughed, an attempt a speaking that came out as nothing intelligible. Galen rushed over, kneeling beside his father, and grabbed his shoulders.

“Are you alright?”

Deep laughter devolved to a fit of coughing so harsh Galen was sure his father would spit something up. Hoem grabbed his son’s arm, shaking his head. “You shove a sword into my chest and now ask--“ He cut himself off to swallow a great breath of air and recompose himself. “And now ask if I’m alright?”

“It’s not like I was trying to kill you!”

“Coulda fooled me.” Hoem released the wound, using the hand to brace himself against the ground. “Damn. I can hardly keep myself from falling over. I don’t know what that sword did, but it did the job.” He struck the ground with a fist. “Damn!”

Galen let some of the tension of his muscles. At least he knew his father was fine, but he also knew why Hoem was so angry. He’d lost, and that meant letting Galen go on. Hoem wasn’t one to let anger show on his face, but Galen could tell because he’d be feeling the exact same way if he’d lost. In truth, he didn’t even feel like he deserved the win. His father had been fighting with a significant disadvantage using a real sword. Hoem could’ve just as easily pulled out wooden practice swords to put them on equal footing, then beat Galen with his superior experience--but he didn’t. A stranger might look at it and say it was overconfidence, but that wasn’t how Hoem would do things. He went sword-to-sword because he thought it was the right thing to do.

Galen’s mouth kept twisting about, trying to figure out whether to smile or grimace. Every time he tried to smile, he saw himself thrusting Toneruth into his father’s chest and felt that resonating chill rush up his arms. He’d won the fight, but it hadn’t ended so simply.

“It’s on the far south side of the dock, not far from the water. I stuck it under one of the larger tarps so it’d just look like a pile of junk.”

Galen raised his head. “What?”

“Your damn boat.” A harsh breath rushed through Hoem’s teeth. “South side, under a tarp.”

“Dad…”

Hoem slapped a hand against Galen’s side. “Yeah, it’s just like you to try to gentle the blow after crushing your opponent. You won, Galen! Don’t feel sorry about it, or you’ll never stop doubting yourself.”

“But--“

Hoem looked up, freezing Galen’s words in his mouth with a stare. "You must not let your reason for action be fear! You cannot dread the unknown, shamble with shaky legs towards your goal, bear the beast of failure on your back while it whispers into your ear all that might befall you should you falter. You must venture forward for hope of what you might gain should you win." He gestured to the spot Galen had struck on his chest. “This was necessary. You did what you had to--that’s how things work. And you gained accordingly.”

Now THAT made Galen want to punch something. One of his hands curled up into fist and just about slammed into the dock. ‘That’s how things work.’

“Get going. I need to lie down, rest a bit. Can’t talk any more.”

Forcing an apology back down his throat, Galen nodded and stood. “I know you didn’t want me to leave--both Nox and here--but it’s so I could grow into someone you can be proud of. I’m going to prove it.” With that, he ran off. He’d need everyone’s help to get the boat back out onto the water.

Hoem fell onto his rear, watching his son leave, and hid his smile from the torchlight. “You never had to worry about that.”

After fetching everyone, Galen found their ship in short order. Seira was able to tear the tarp off in one fell swoop, allowing everyone a brief sigh of relief. It was just as they left it, so all they needed to do was get it back in the water. Galen, Seira, and Sybyll were about to do just that when a couple adventurous tentacles snuck out of the water, slipped around Galen’s waist, and pulled him up into the air.

“Gah!”

He grabbed at the tentacles, squirming about in the air in panic, but when he saw a familiar face rise from the water along with several other tentacles, his panic drained as quickly as it had come.

“Kraken. Can you let me down?”

“Ara ara, I don’t know if I should. You might try running away from me,” she said, running a finger along her teasing smile. More tentacles moved to Galen, lightly grabbing his arms and legs. A familiar, vicious growl sent shivers down Galen’s spine. This teasing was going to get one or both of them in a lot of trouble.

“Please. We need to set out, sooner rather than later. Let me go.”

“Hmmm.” She tapped her cheek, eyeing Galen up and down. “I guess so. For now.”

Slowly, she set him back on the dock, but took her time removing her tentacles. Once free of Galen, they all gravitated toward their land-bound ship and lifted it up with ease. When Galen’s stare went wide, the Kraken sent him a wink.

“I didn’t know you were so strong,” he said.

The ship hit the water with a splash, sending a light mist onto Galen which tingled on his bare skin.

“My tentacles are capable of many surprising things.” One brushed up against Galen’s cheek, earning another growl, this time much closer.

He quickly pushed the tentacle away, but not before his face flushed red. “Let’s get going now, shall we?” His shaky voice didn’t help, either. A large paw seized Galen by the arm, dragged him over to the boat, and tossed him in with no ceremony. The boat’s sudden sway under the new weight almost stole Galen’s balance from him, but he’d been in boats long enough to keep himself upright. Mino whooped when she hopped him after him, followed by Sybyll and Seira, the latter of whom took a seat uncomfortably close to Galen.

Odd how Seira was always so protective with her actions, but she rarely spoke about them, like acknowledging them would somehow flip the world upside down. A sly smile formed on Galen’s face. He didn’t know why he was in the mood. Maybe it had something to do with the gushing pride from earning a victory over his father, or maybe he was relieved his father had at least accepted his choice to travel his own journey. It could be the Kraken was rubbing off on him, too. Whatever the reason, he tossed his self-perservation instinct out the window and opened his mouth.

“What’s the matter, Seira?” He poked her in the side. “Jealous?”

As a small, lonely boat sailed out of Uuluth’s port in the dead of night, a scream echoed out across the water.

**Chapter 39**

It wasn't so much the chill that bothered him, but rather the fact it never seemed to touch the burning within. And he wasn't thinking about the throbbing, red mark on his arm where Seira had left her vengeance, though that still smarted something fierce. Seira was sure to rub her fur up against it whenever she felt the need to as well.

The flame that bothered him swelled up within his chest all the more fierce the more he thought about it. The chill barrier of his skin remained unaffected. Each time he ran his fingers down his arms in hopes of warming them up, he ended up finding only more of the same. Light air wisped out of his mouth in a long, silent breath, drifting through the hair on his arms before melding with the ever-present wind and soaring away. Drowsiness clogged his thoughts, yet he couldn’t sleep. Questions hammered his mind, yet he could not speak them. Who would have ears to listen, anyways?

He glanced behind himself. Sybyll was sitting up straight, as always, eyes vacant and fixed on the land just visible to their port. No, not vacant--not even the stone of Sybyll could be unperturbed and confident in this situation. Yet, even as doubt might nip at her, Galen saw no way to take hold of it and convey the injustice--the wrongness of her situation. There really was no better word than wrongness. Sybyll’s fate was a fault in the world, a cruel torture disguised as something else. She called it ‘duty’. Her resignation had swallowed her and spit out a monster who went by the name of Sybyll. Galen had seen a different monster twice, now thinking on it. Cea’s house and the night she had shown Galen her burden, her ‘greatest contradiction’ as Cea had called it. He hadn’t understood what the ushi-oni meant by it then, or even the night Sybyll revealed it, but now things fit into place.

A warrior so intent on duty, so convinced the path of absolute selflessness was the only one to follow, telling herself every day that she must save nothing for herself.

‘Sybyll,’ Galen thought, ‘if that’s the case, why haven’t you thrown it away?’

Every time he opened his mouth to ask Sybyll that very question, however, he choked up, swallowing a mouthful of sea, spit, and shame. How could he pretend to know anything, to talk back to her, when he understood nothing himself? When he was the ultimate weakness, the failure in their plan, and still said nothing to anyone about it? Toneruth would never Cut the world in his hands; they would’ve been better off finding someone else, someone with the constitution to carry this through. Maybe he would’ve been that man, had he been the same Galen as when the journey started. A bit more ignorant, perhaps, but confident and unwilling to falter for anything. Brave enough to take on a manticore with a simple iron sword.

Galen found himself staring at Seira, and that flame immolating his body once again. Nothing made sense with her any more as far as his thoughts were concerned. He wanted to stop her from killing Medusuub for revenge’s sake, but at the same time, he found something of a respect for her mission. Not in the form, but the function: her desire to set the world right, to fix the glaring wound cut into it when her entire family was murdered. Galen should have no empathy for a monster like Medusuub who would do such things, a monster he never met, where he knew Seira’s pain well.

He wanted to be happy that she would soon become the next monster lord and set things right, per say, but he could only hear a distant and approaching regret growing with the pain in his left shoulder. Once they broke into the castle and, if by some miracle, were able to subdue Medusuub without Toneruth’s greatest power, Seira’s story alongside Galen would end. She would have no need for him, and he, as either an adventurer or a lad set for home, would have no reason to loiter around the monster lord. Galen idly watched her braid fly in the wind and ripples run through her fur. Seira made no effort to hide her feelings as Sybyll did. She kept her eyes forward, narrowed with grim determination.

If only he could take some of that for himself, strengthen his resolve and cast the weakness away. For so long had he carried the flag of idealism, of avoiding killing at all costs and trying to make everyone happy. He refused compromise as if it was rotten meat instead of the hope it really offered. He created problems where there should have been none. On the night before they entered the Lands, he could’ve had the harpies and and mothman killed and saved them all so much pain. As for his friends, Sybyll had already resolved herself to the necessity of her station--so why did Galen feel the need to twist that knife further? Mino yearned to find good in the world and traveled across sea and valley for it. Could he show it to her? For decades Seira had sought her revenge and Galen still couldn’t offer anything but rebuke. If she deserved anything, did she not deserve that? Everything she’d lost, the waiting, the running, the planning, the fighting which had led her to this point… was Galen going to try casting it all away for his own ideals?

‘You did what you had to--that’s how things work.’  
‘Your idealism doesn’t belong in this world.’

Galen tasted bile in his mouth, thick on his tongue like some foul, spoiled molasses. Hearing those words again brought heat to his body, a new heat that set his eyes aflame and burned to the very tips of his fingers. All he was going to end up doing was prove them right, if he proved anything at all.

Night passed to day, but the sun had no warmth that could reach their little boat. The Kraken pulled them along without pause or word and the wind offered no help. Galen saw her tentacles tighten on the boat with each surge forward. How did she feel about this whole thing? She’d been very open with her attitude toward Galen, but said nothing of the mission, of how she felt about pulling along the monsters and man who would kill the monster lord. Her monster lord. Did she feel any attachment toward Medusuub? Poseidon? Or was she simply a soldier who enjoyed her work as she could?

“There.”

Galen didn’t need to see where Sybyll was pointing. The monument made itself known easily enough.

A mist settled over smooth, impossible waterfalls, cascades which roared with lungs mightier than any beast or monster. They didn’t have the angle to look down the gorge, but Galen knew it had no bottom, that the water fell to nothing and no one had ever braved it to find out where it might go. The ravine ran down a perfectly straight line, slowly widening as it went. If one were to follow it far enough, they would find the end, but Galen couldn’t see it from where he stood. His eyes ran the other direction, instead, onto land, where a great cliff had been split in two by the very mark which dove into the ocean. Violence had reached down into the land and sea and made it Nothing.

A dark wound upon the earth. A Cut.

“The Scar of the World,” said Galen.

Seira put her paws on her hips, glancing at the ocean mist before turning to the split cliff. “And while Suusuub III may have been the only monster lord crazy enough to build her castle atop it, it seems none following her have had any trouble living there themselves.”

Galen turned to the stop Seira was watching. Sure enough, the peaks of the monster lord’s castle peeked over the edge of the cliffs.

Their destination, where they would all meet the chosen end of their journeys.

“We can’t approach until night,” Seria told the Kraken. “Take us to the coast where we can wait out the day. Once it is dark, we’ll head right under the cliffs so we can approach without being seen so easily. We’ll have to be quick across the water, though. They’ll undoubtedly have sentries watching it, and the darkness of the water is only so effective.” She looked to Galen. “Let’s hope we have a cloudy night.”

His acknowledging nod was so minor he hardly noticed it himself. “Mmm. Yeah.” He hadn’t spared any worry for their approach. Secrecy or open combat, his ultimate goal remained the same. Remained unobtainable. Toneruth would never respond to someone like him.

The harsh, grating sound of wood on rocks signaled a respite in their journey. The Kraken pulled it far enough up the beach for it to stay there and the moment it came to a stop, Seira and Mino were out. The former stretched with a groan and the latter skipped down the coastline. Galen thought about calling out and telling her not to wander, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care that much. She was smart enough not to get lost or discovered… hopefully.

He would’ve been content to sit in the boat and lose himself in thought, but an outstretched paw threw a wrench in his plans.

“Coming?”

After a delayed nod, he accepted her paw and allowed himself to be pulled from the boat. The first few steps were a stumble, but the ability to stand hadn’t left him yet. Brushing himself off, he dragged himself over toward a nearby tree. It became welcome shelter from the sun and he let himself have a little smile before collapsing underneath it.

Looking up, he found Seira standing over him, her paws at her hips.

“What’s eating you?”

Ah. Of course she would notice. But that wasn’t a question so easily answered. It was more than despair that ate at him, a defeat accepted before the battle had begun. A harsh truth which Galen should’ve realized long ago. Seira had been trying to open his eyes the entire time, but he’d been so high up in his dreams, so focused on the things that didn’t matter, he hadn’t had the ears to hear until now.

“I’m just figuring out the significance of this. Thousands of people and monsters are depending on us, and I’m not sure I’m worth that.”

“You? Unsure of yourself? Now I’ve seen everything.” She raised an eyebrow and shot him an incredulous smirk, as if she assumed he was joking around. “You’ve proved yourself already. Hard part’s over, Galen. We’re at the castle, and tonight we’ll sneak right in. All you gotta do is swing that sword. Compared to everything that led us here? Not a problem.”

Just gotta ‘swing that sword’, huh? That’s probably as simple as it seemed to Seira, but Toneruth required someone who knew what he was doing, someone with the ability to defy the world. Galen had tried that already, and it hadn’t worked out. How had Seira put it before?

“You said before…” His face fell. “’My idealism doesn’t belong in this world.’ I understand why you said that now. You were right.”

The air stank of silence so heavy Galen clutched his chest. It hovered in the space between them, infecting the world with stillness, with hesitance. As the seconds passed, each breath became a labor. The silence sunk into his mind so deep he never saw himself forgetting it.

“You’re not messing around, are you? You’re actually serious about that.” A pause. “You idiot.”

That was not the reaction he expected. Turning to Seira, he saw her face hardened into anger, one so fierce it sucked in the warmth around her and turned it to ice.

“Idiot? Seira, you told me--“

She swallowed the distance between them in two great strides, seizing the scruff of Galen’s shirt and yanking his face into hers. “This has got to be the STUPIDEST part about you! ‘What I told you’? Seriously? Do you even think these things through before you open that flappy mouth of yours?”

Fear twisted to anger inside of Galen. He grabbed the paw holding him and attempted to shake it off. “Of course I do! I’ve given this plenty of thought! I wouldn’t have said--“

Seira easily tossed Galen’s hands off her paw and gripped him with the second as well. “You don’t even realize you’re doing it! For the great demon’s sake, you’re actively ignoring the truth because you feel better moping! That’s your problem: you find some tiny flaw in your view and tear the whole thing apart because everything didn’t fit all nice like you wanted. I bet your dad had to slap you around all the time to get you to come to your senses! You’re damn lucky I’m here for it now!”

“Hey! I’m just trying to be realistic! That’s what you wanted me to do, right?” Galen’s anger fed on the cold Seira’s generated. “Why are you so mad about it?”

“You don’t throw away everything you’ve fought for, everything you believe in, just because you fear being wrong! And that’s all I’m getting from you: fear! ‘Oh, I can’t use Toneruth like the last guy. Better throw in the towel!’ ‘I’m scared I’m gonna have to kill someone. I should run before even knowing for sure!’ ‘I don’t know what’s going to happen tonight--I think I’ll just chase the sun so it never sets!’ Is that really how you were raised? You stink of defeat and we haven’t even started toward the castle yet.”

Forcing a swallow down, Galen met Seira’s glare with sharp eyes and gritted teeth. Her crimson was beautiful as ever.

“When you find evidence that goes against what you believe, you investigate. You think, and you look for the truth behind it. If it turns out you were wrong, then you accept it and move on. But you know what you’re doing now? You’re running away. On your journey, which you thought would be all sorts of fun, you realized that the world doesn't work all nice and neat. That doing the right thing isn’t as easy as you thought it was. It’s crippled your ability to think for yourself, to make a choice when it counts. You’ve even gone as far as dismissing anything that would prove you right, because then that would mean you don’t get to feel sorry for yourself anymore. That you have to grow up. Do you even remember what I said back then? EXACTLY what I said?”

Her grip grew tighter, her words spewed with spit. Galen again tried to free himself to no avail. “I already told you!”

“What did I say!?”

“’My idealism doesn’t belong in this world!’”

“’But I wish it did!’”

Galen’s eyes flickered. Had she said that, too?

“Of course your idealism doesn’t belong in this world, and the thought of you parading it around makes me sick to my stomach!” She practically screamed in his face. “The world doesn’t work that way! Monster and humans aren’t perfect! Accidents happen! Cruelty will win where it shouldn’t and compassion will hide where it should be seen! And most of all, when people and monsters disagree, they will kill each other to defend what they believe!” Galen was on the ground before he knew it, a powerful throw knocking the air from his lungs. Seira stepped over him and pointed at his face. “And they’re not wrong for doing it! Wouldn’t you fight to protect what you thought was most precious to you? Wouldn’t you take action for yourself, for others? Aren’t you doing that right now?”

Galen tried backing up, but Seira landed a foot on his chest to stop him.

“That doesn’t mean we’re nothing more than killers, though. That doesn’t mean we don’t want to save lives. Isn’t that why we’re here? To stop the killing? My life is violence, Galen. It’s power, it’s struggling, it’s ruthless and allows not a second of doubt. I know how to do what I think is necessary, and that’s all I know. But what if I’m wrong? I have my weaknesses, my needs, my fears. I need a post, a landmark, something to look at so I can tell where I am, some way to keep from turning into the next Medusuub.” Even now, that last word was foul on her tongue.

“’But I wish it did’. For all the fuck in the world, I can hardly stand to look at you! I can’t stand that the one human who might be something different is so blind to what he has, what he is. I can’t stand how you toss the positives of something away just so you can soak in the worst of it and wallow in your fear. It doesn’t make sense how you’ve tackled so many things with enthusiasm, only to succumb when you take a second to swallow in the dangers about you. How can you be here, at the monster lord’s doorstep, Toneruth in hand, thinking of all the ways you could possibly FAIL? I can’t believe I need you for this.” She lifted her foot off him, meeting his eyes in one last withering stare. “Why did you come here in the first place?”

Her footsteps faded from hearing, each other rough on the sand. Galen sat up straight and brushed himself off, shooting the distant Seira a sour look. What did she expect from him, a miracle? Why was she expecting anything out of him, in fact? He’d always been the weak one, the one she had to look over, the one she picked on. What had changed?

“She isn’t entirely wrong,” said Sybyll, now resting under the tree with Galen.

He glanced back at her, a little surprised. He hadn’t heard her approach. “About what? I can’t use Toneruth, you should know that! Especially after you told me what it would do to you! I’m going to be killing at least two monsters the next time I use it, and I should be fine with that!” He collapsed back onto the sand. “But I’m not. I don’t know why I’m not. I wish I weren’t this stubborn. I wish at least some part of this made sense.” Grabbing at his hair, he shook his head back and forth. “Not ‘entirely wrong’? How can I tell if anything she said was wrong or right? How can I be what she wants me to be?”

“I think you need to figure out exactly what it is you’re held up on. You are asking yourself too many questions at once, some of which may never have answers. Don’t think about what will happen tonight, focus on clearing your mind, on finding your peace. I believe Seira gave you a good place to start.”

Galen let his hands slowly fall down his face. ‘Why did you come here in the first place?’

The tree rustled as Sybyll stood up and pushed off it. “I will go follow Seira and make sure she doesn’t run off somewhere. Do not worry about her. Stay here and figure out the question that matters to you most--you may find the rest come much easier.”

With that, Galen was alone again. Or maybe he was always alone? A human in the monsters’ world, his guiding light darkening with each step he took. On Nox, answers were always simple to come across--he just had to ask his father. And what had his father said back in Uuluth?

‘You must not let your reason for action be fear!’

Yet he’d arrived here by stepping over his father. Pride? Why had he felt pride that night? He was throwing away the one person who could help him where no other could.

No, wait. Hadn’t someone just screamed at him the very thing his father had tried to tell him?

Someone had just given him a very stern talking-to. Someone had seen him in the dark, did what they could to pull him back to the light, and all he could think about was how lost he was. Maybe she was a touch more harsh than his father, but the words were so similar--and she had said something more. Somehow she knew what he needed: a question.

“Why did you come here in the first place?” he said aloud at the sky.

He’d been so caught up with his adventure he’d forgotten why he’d set out in the first place. Circumstance and emotion swept him away like a wind would a leaf. Why did he want his father to be proud of him? Why did he want to find Toneruth? Why had he so persistently bothered Seira to stay with him? Why hadn’t he tossed Mino out when Seira urged him to? And why did he care so much for whether Sybyll disappeared or not?

What were HIS reasons? Seira wanted revenge and to become the monster lord to lead her kind away from the path Medusuub had set them on. Sybyll wanted to be the monster she thought the men who tied her to Toneruth wanted her to be, drenched in duty and lack of self. Mino wanted to learn, to find the questions her life had given her answers to. His companions, his friends all arrived at this place with their purpose clear in mind, but Galen had merely stumbled along behind them. And he called himself the leader. He dropped his hands into his lap and bumped his head against the tree. Sure, he wanted to help them, but that wasn’t enough, apparently. Something else lingered in his mind, some unconscious force which had pulled him to the monster lord’s doorstep.

“Hey!”

Galen started, coming off the tree to turn to the sudden voice. Mino grinned and leapt up into the tree, making it shake under the sudden weight. So much for that alone time. Galen frowned. Maybe this could end up helping him, actually.

“Mino, why did you come here?”

“’Cause you looked sad.” She swayed back and forth on the branch. “And I was curious.”

“No, not here-here, but, I mean, here, as in with me and Seira and Sybyll? Why did you stay with us all the way to the monster lord’s castle?”

“Still the same answer.”

Galen narrowed his eyes. Was she not taking this journey seriously? With Mino, that certainly seemed possible. “So you traveled all the way across plains, mountains, the Scorched Lands, Uuluth and the sea because you were curious?”

“And because you looked sad.”

Grumbling under his breath, Galen rested his face in his hand. Guess he wasn’t going to get what he was looking for out of this conversation. “You must have some super vision or something, because I can’t remember looking all that sad when I met you.” He paused to reconsider his words. “Or even before I realized you were there.”

“Maybe. But you had a different kind of sad, not the one that makes you cry, but the one that weighs you down. You wanted something you knew you couldn’t have, but you wanted it anyways.”

“Did I, now?” Life on Nox was perfect compared to this. He couldn’t imagine wanting anything back there, except for maybe some adventure. And his search of that had led him right here.

“Mm-hmm. I’ve seen lots of people like you. Gets easier to spot.”

“And what did I want?”

“Dunno. Shouldn’t you?”

Galen opened his mouth to speak, but in reality, ‘No’ was the wrong answer here. He crossed his arms instead. “What were you so curious about?”

Mino had made a little game out of drooping from the branch, watching as slime dripped from her body, and catching it before it hit the ground. “I want to know what a good person is. People and monsters can’t ever seem to make up their mind on it, so I decided to see for myself.”

“So you’re going to attack the monster lord’s castle with us? Not that I don’t appreciate the help, but Medusuub is technically your leader, isn’t she?”

“Just because the king rules all the humans, doesn’t mean every human likes him, does it? But it’s not like I hate her; I’m curious about her, too, in fact. Curious about how she’s going to react to this. Maybe she’s the good one and we’re the bad ones.” Mino shrugged. “All I know is I want to know.”

No more questions came to mind but the one that still gnawed at him. ‘Why are you here?’ It eluded him like mist flowing through his fingers.

Mino plopped down in front of him. “Are you curious about something, too?”

“I wouldn’t exactly say that.” His thirst had surpassed mere curiosity. “But I do want to know something. About myself. Why I’m here.”

“Isn’t it ‘cause your friends are here?”

Galen watched her cock her head, wishing he still had that blunt way of thinking. “I am, but not just for that. It isn’t enough.”

“Well, what makes you angry?”

“Angry?”

“Yeah. The stuff you really care about the most is what makes you angry. Kinda like parents when their child has been missing--they get angry when the kid comes back, but that’s because they cared.”

Galen adjusted himself against the tree. “I’m not sure that’s the same…”

“Nah, it is.” Galen almost felt growling at her for tossing his thoughts out so easily, but then again, Mino probably didn’t mean anything by it. She was just confident in her theory. “So what gets you angry?”

“Well, I dunno. Not a whole lot gets me angry. When my friends are attacked, I guess.” He was trying to play along, but didn’t see this going anywhere helpful.

“You already said friends weren’t enough, so what else?”

“I… I just don’t get angry at a whole lot.”

“What about at Mallus? You got angry there.”

And ate a mouthful from Seira, too. Twice. “I was angry with myself for not staying in control. For killing the harpy and the mothman. That still doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

“Are you sure? Why did you get so mad, hmm?” She stepped to one side of him. “They were gonna kill you, ya know.” She stepped back to the other side. “Why get angry with yourself?”

His mouth had curled downward into a grimace with him realizing it. “Anyone would get angry in a situation like that. It’s… not fun to lose control of yourself.”

“Are you sure? Anyone? Sybyll might not. Seira definitely not.”

“Just, well, they’re different, okay?” This was starting to feel more like an interrogation than anything and oddly oppressive, coming from Mino.

“I think there’s a reason you got mad and they wouldn’t. I think there’s a reason you’re starting to get mad now.”

“Don’t say I’m mad. I’m not mad.” He lowered his head a moment. There was no way he’d be losing this to Mino. “I guess I was annoyed that I killed them because I said I wouldn’t earlier. So I went back on what I said.” He shrugged. “Happy?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Maybe there’s something else? I don’t think you should’ve been so upset, you know. You did what you had to.”

“No! That’s not it! I didn’t--“ He’d raised his finger to jab it at her, but stopped mid-gesture. His mouth hung open a little, his eyes stared off into the distance. Mino was right: he was getting angry. And when she said that last sentence, he’d about stood up and shouted at her. Those words stirred the an anger in him, one that pounced on him out of nowhere. The thought of doing what he was forced to revolted him so much he wanted to puke. Flashbacks of the hospital in Mallus, that welling sickness, the pit in his stomach that seemed like it’d never go away.

He blinked. His fingers dug into his pants and scratched the skin beneath. Every time his father or Seira had said those words, ‘what you had to do’, he wanted to punch something. His shoulder burst into pain with a thousand pins and needles, but Galen kept himself from clutching it. He needed to remember this pain, this flame.

‘This was necessary.’  
‘You did what you had to.’

Galen found himself panting. His hands had clutched his pants so hard they’d become numb. Galen leapt to his feet, unable to sit still any longer. If Mino wanted him to get mad, well, he now had anger to spare. And an answer.

“Thanks, Mino.”

“Maybe next time I get you angry it will be just for fun!” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Go do what you gotta do.”

The tree had shrunk considerably in Galen’s vision before he realized he had no idea what exactly he was setting out to accomplish. His instinct dragged him toward where he’d seen Seira and Sybyll run off, so apparently he had something in mind. Instead of standing and mulling it over, he shrugged and started to jog. It wouldn’t be long before the sun set and the end of this journey was upon them. He didn’t have time to be pondering and wondering, analyzing and double-checking himself. He had his answers and now he needed to act on them. A cool wind came off the sea, rustling the long grass and pulling at his clothes. With a deep breath, he drew the breeze in, a taste he’d become more familiar with over the past couple days. He remembered it from Nox as well, though the air up here seemed heavier somehow.

After a short jog, he caught up with Seira and Sybyll, the former standing on a short hill and watching the sea, arms crossed and unmoving against the wind, and the latter with a similar pose, but eyes on her surroundings as well as the manticore in front of her. From where Galen stood, either Seira didn’t care Sybyll was there, or was doing a good job of hiding any annoyance.

While he saw her ears twitch in response to his arrival, it wasn’t Seira he was there for. He came to a stop right in front of Sybyll, still breathing heavy from the jog. Should have probably worked on his endurance a bit, he thought, but it was too late to lament that now. He stretched out his arm and opened his hand.

“Give it here.”

Sybyll looked down at the hand, then to Galen, a minor twitch of the eyes and nothing more. “I’m not sure I understand.”

“’Course you do.” He paused to catch his breath, then emphasized his open hand. “Give it here.”

“You want your sword back? I have no objection, but you won’t find it near as effective as Toneruth in the--“ She’d started to unhook the iron sword, but Galen cut her off.

“Give it! ‘For duty and want of self’, right? Give it to me so I can do what you’re supposed to do with something like that!”

For once, Sybyll had no answer. She stood, anchored in place, eyes locked on Galen and hands frozen in mid-action. Emotion flashed across a face that rarely knew it, like a flash of light in the deepest cellar. It had been so long since someone other than Sybyll had known about the medal that she’d forgotten how to even address the subject when thrust upon her. Her eyes glanced over to Seira, easily within earshot, but now wasn’t time to worry about the secret. In fact, his mission was spoil the knowledge to the entire world. He smiled. That was exactly the reaction he wanted from her.

“You going into your final battle, Sybyll. There’s no reason to hide it any more, and even if there was, I think that reason has long since lost its relevance.”

She still didn’t reach for it. “Why do you desire it so strongly now?”

A deflection. Galen had none of it. “I think you know, and I think you want to give it to me. Besides, I’m not taking it for myself, nor am I throwing it away. I’m doing what needs to be done. Now stop delaying and give it to me.”

Her claw moved slowly, eyes switching between Galen and Seira, and her face fought to dismiss the already-obvious conflict twitching her cheeks, her mouth, her eyes. A lump traveled down her throat, but her fingers found the outline of the medal and slid it out from underneath her armor. A clenched fist held it from view for as long as she dared, as long as she could hold onto that doubt, like something terrible would befall her the moment she let go. Yet, when she lifted her hand over Galen’s and released, nothing did.

The shimmering gold was heavier than Galen expected, but the weight seemed to fit it. A thick strap, attached to the top of the medal, was probably meant to be worn around the neck, but Galen didn’t want to make a necklace out of the medal, didn’t want to give Sybyll any sort of opportunity to hide it under her shirt. His eyes ran over the inscription again and his thumb pressed against the grooves. It was a neat little contradiction in itself, really: a flashy object meant to be displayed, but the inscription stated a lack of pride, a responsibility to ideals beyond the self. Letting the strap hang out, he stepped up to Sybyll’s right arm, pulled it away from her body, and wrapped the strap tight against her bicep. Once he finished, Sybyll raised her arm to get a good look at Galen’s work. For some reason, she didn’t shrivel up or disappear, even with the medal so brazenly exposed. Her eyes narrowed, focused and sharp, her thoughts just now catching up to the moment. After several seconds, she rested her arm back at her side.

“Why? And why now?” she asked.

“Because it’s not wrong to be a little selfish. It’s not wrong to want something for yourself. I wanted you to know that before you left.”

Her face hinted at a frown. “Galen, my station--“

“Doesn’t matter. No one should be so afraid to hold something for themselves, even if something it’s as simple as a feeling. You’ve allowed yourself nothing and it’s going to destroy you.”

The reply came with a cracking voice. “When I accepted my duty, I realized certain things would be necessary, and this--“

“Don’t say that word in front of me,” he said, emphasizing his statement by jabbing a finger at her chest. “And don’t think the two are incompatible. Don’t you need your own dreams, your own desires, to keep moving forward with a sound mind?”

“I don’t… I… I don’t know.” Her gaze drifted away for a moment, unable to meet the depth of Galen’s. It landed on her medal. She huffed as if something more than air was leaving her body. “I suppose it would not hurt to see.”

“Good.” He wrapped his arms tight around her, uncaring of the fact his head never reached higher than her chin, or that her armor scapped rough against his skin, or that he felt her body burn hot against his. It’d been far too long since he’d done this. And when she hugged back, he smiled. “Good.”

Neither Galen, too busy enjoying the moment, nor Sybyll, wrapped up in the first hug she’d given in a long time, noticed Seira staring.

And it wasn’t at Sybyll’s new medal.

  
**

  
Night was never far, but even still it crept upon the group faster than they expected. A few clouds splattered across the sky, but not as many as Galen wanted. From Seira’s constant glances upward, not as many as she wanted, either. The Kraken’s speed surprised Galen even now, after seeing her move with ease through water so many times. While it wasn’t a constant speed like he was used to with boats, each surge of her tentacles launched them forward with force that would’ve tossed him from the boat had he not been bracing himself. The surges came at a constant pace, slowly building on each other until they were practically soaring across the water.

Blackness had swallowed nearly everything. The moon still dared to peek out from behind the light cloud cover, but it was hardly full and the sea seemed to consume any sort of light venturing close to them. In rapidly-approaching foreground, the great split cliff holding the monster lord’s castle grew as a curtain of pure black ready to fall over them. Seira and Sybyll kept their eyes upward, searching for flying patrols, but Galen and Mino couldn’t keep their attention from the looming unknown ahead.

Galen clutched his heart, trying to keep it from thudding so hard. He worried it might alert the enemy to their presence, assuming it didn’t explode in his chest first. His breathing nearly got away from him as well and he’d started panting before he realized it. He forced himself to close his eyes in order to give himself a moment to concentrate on even breaths, but even those were noisy and harsh. He started a bit when he felt a paw on his shoulder. Swallowing another rude breath, he followed the paw back to its owner, but she was still busy watching the skies. That obvious, huh? This striking anxiety, however, wasn’t for himself, but the task ahead. His friends had made sure he’d taken care of the former. Galen’s lungs felt some ease, finally, but in its place that odd heat grew within him, spreading from his shoulder like Seira was pumping it into him somehow, and his heart still fought to escape the confines of his chest. Nails digging into his skin, he seized at his chest and faked ripping that torturous organ out.

Mino somehow gave the appearance of a child seeing mountains or the ocean for the first time. He saw no fear, no determination, just awe. Well, maybe there was a touch of intimidation. Mino didn’t know what she’d find tonight, all she knew was that she had to find out. Was it that she placed so little value on her own life or that her mission was simply so important she never considered her well-being a factor? While he couldn’t share her lack of fear, Galen had dipped into that well of curiosity. He knew what he wanted out of tonight, he just wasn’t completely sure how he might get it. A lump slowly descended his throat. He still didn’t know the how. Maybe he had will, maybe he’d found his reasons, but reality would want something more than that. It demanded a device which fit its own rules. Galen’s hand dug into Toneruth. He might have that, too.

The boat hit the rocky beach as silently as the Kraken could manage. Seira and Sybyll deftly leapt from the craft, using their momentum to carry them. Mino hit the rocks with a splat, but was able to reform quickly. Galen didn’t have the leg muscles or coordination in the depth of night to jump like his companions, but several tentacles picked him up and laid him down safely, one lingering on his cheek before disappearing. He turned to the Kraken, who offered a wink in farewell before fading into the night.

“Follow me,” said Seira.

Made sense. She knew the place best. Galen nodded and fell in right behind her, Mino behind him and Sybyll in the rear. Wait, if the Scar of the World was here, didn’t that mean Sybyll had been here once? At least, before she was banished by the power consumed. Galen gritted his teeth. That was one thing he couldn’t possibly avoid tonight. Sybyll would be leaving, one way or the other. Yet, as the golden medal on her arm bounced around with her run, he saved a little hope for himself.

Sybyll noticed his glance and nodded. She might be saving some as well.

Seira’s pace was not kind to Galen, just short of a run and entirely uphill. They had to get around the cliff as quickly as possible, but at the same time, they needed to save some energy for when they actually made it to the castle. She never looked back, not even a single time, and Galen expected no less from her. The culmination of so many years led up to this night, and she would never allow herself any distraction from her mission. Tonight she would regain her position as monster lord or die trying… though Galen wasn’t sure if revenge hadn’t since earned that spot atop her priorities. He couldn’t take his eyes away from that braid dancing in the wind and the beat of her run. It gave him something to think about beside the grueling run, the vicious wear on his scrawny body.

After far too long, they made it to cliff’s plateau and for the first time, Galen got a good look at the castle. Numerous torches fought back the night, but still it bled over the towers, the walls, the grooves in the stone. The towers had neither the number nor the height Galen expected, and the walls were only a few times his height instead of many. Dull purple and red mixed together to color the stone, likely formed from magic. The color almost reminded him of the buildings from Mallus. The castle had been built directly over the split--how, Galen could only wonder--and the only way to access the front gate was up one of two long, smooth ramps, neither lit, but neither had any sort of railing and Galen doubted all four of them could run up abreast. Shadows came and went, patrols passing by the lighting, sometimes pausing to turn, sometimes stopping for a chat. He could hear faint echoes of voices, but only in his mind. The wind seized anything that attempted to leave the castle and whistled over it with its own power. Thankfully, that would mean their approach would be difficult to hear as well.

“The ramp’s dark,” said Galen. “Could we make it to the wall unnoticed?”

Seira shook her head. “Not with those patrols. They’re nocturnal.”

The break as they watched the castle helped Galen’s burning lungs, but even so, his legs itched to move. “Is there another approach?”

“No. The only other way in would be the secret passage I escaped out of, but that’s under the castle, atop the Scar. Only accessible if you’ve got wings or can stick to ceilings.”

“Well, you’ve got wings. And I’m sure Mino could stick to the rock. Couldn’t there be some way in?”

Seira paused a moment, considering. “No. The passage is meant as an escape. It will not open from the outside. It’s unfortunate, but there truly is no stealthy way in, not with this location.”

He waited for Seira to offer something more, but all she did was frown and watch the patrols.

“So, this might get noisy pretty quick?”

“Yeah. But at the very least we can make it noisy in our favor. Also, these patrols don’t seem as perky as I expected. If we make a break for it at the right time, we could be right on them as they see us.”

“How many do you see?”

“On patrol? Four. I wouldn’t count on any less than a dozen directly within the walls, though at this time of night, if we hurry, we can make it to the throne room before many are roused.”

Galen’s grip on Toneruth tightened. “A dozen… all right. But why the throne room? Wouldn’t it be more likely for Medusuub to be sleeping?”

“She might be right now, but once we start a ruckus she’ll head straight for the throne room. Easiest to defend. Plus, if we’re fast enough, there’s a route which might beat the guards to their posts.”

“And what about the gate? I know everyone else has a way in, but me?”

Seira smiled. “Mino got you over one gate before, right?”

Galen’s smile was much more shaky. When he turned back to see the look on Mino’s face, even less so. “I guess that’s that.”

“Alright, I think I’ve got the pattern down. We’ll go in a second. Get ready.”

Biting his lip, Galen braced himself to explode forward. Every muscle in his body tensed up to the point the tiniest whisper would set him off. He stared hard into the night, trying as best he could to make out their path. His best bet would be to follow Seira close until he made it to the area lit by torches. The air grew thick, the darkness thicker, and each of his breaths was slower than the last. A cold touch on his arm let him know Mino was right next to him, ready to toss him over the gate. While the prospect did little to ease him, other things wove much more potent threads of thought through his mind.

“Go!”

It was still a whisper, as her other words, but this one struck with the force of a punch. Seira burst into action, hitting a sprint in only a few strides. Galen’s muscles fired with a ferocious power that launched him forward, right behind Seira, his legs and arms pumping like they had the day he flew from Nox. Mino and Sybyll pounced forward as well, the slight scraping of feet against dirt not truly portraying the force with which they’d leapt. Galen’s eyes were locked on that braid again, now flying back and forth in a reckless pattern, bouncing off wings and shoulders. The stone of the pathway to the front gate caught him off-guard, a minor slope of smooth stone coming right off the uneven grass, but his focus and balance both held. They had to: no one would have time to stop for him. Everyone had to make this journey on their own, but missing any one of them, this attack could fail. No, would fail.

Not ten steps onto the pathway, Seira slammed into a bright purple wall, sending the force of her run right back into her and throwing her to the ground. Galen gasped. Caught half-way between helping Seira and coming to a stop, he lost his footing and stumbled straight into the barrier that had stopped Seira--and right through it. He hit the ground with a grunt, a sharp pain shooting up the arm he landed on, but he knew it was nothing before the situation at hand. Hopping to his feet, he walked back through the barrier and helped Seira up.

“Shit!” she said, rubbing her head where it’d hit the barrier. “What the… and how did you…?”

Galen froze, curling his hands into fists and closing his eyes. There was no time to think. How did he get through? What could’ve possibly stopped her and not him? His eyes flew open.

“The seal! Ahdria’s seal!”

He shoved a hand into his pocket and yanked out the small stone, the ‘key’ Ahdria had given them to make it past the seal.

“Thrice-damned bloody demons! I forgot!” spat Seira. She grabbed the hand holding the key and thrust it into the barrier. “Go, you two!”

Mino and Sybyll wasted no time breaking through the barrier. Seira and Galen were right behind them and once more their sprint to the wall started. In a situation with no room for error, however, the barrier was more than enough to start their attack off in the worst way. Shouts came from the wall, breaking through the searing wind, and Galen could make out figures against the dancing torchlight.

“Faster!” yelled Seira, setting her own legs afire. The walkway, which had seemed so long before, seemed like nothing before the determined, frenzied pace of Galen’s group.

Seira hit the wall first, stopping only to keep herself from eating the wall the same way she had the barrier. Wings flourished and carried her straight up the wall in an instant, right on top the nearest guard. Galen couldn’t make out what sort of monster it was, though it never mattered. Seira’s speed caught her off-guard and he only heard a single grunt from her before the dull thud of a body hitting the ground. That was the first. He didn’t know if she was dead or just unconscious, but in this battle, there wouldn’t be room for making the distinction. There were those who stood and their way, and those who no longer could. The rest was irrelevant.

Sybyll made it only a second behind Seira. Her mighty legs sent her half-way up the gate, where she dug into it with claws and use the leverage to send her the rest of the way over. She landed atop the wall with a roll, drawing Galen’s old sword with one liquid motion coming out of it. He tore his gaze away: it was his turn. Mino had already extended one arm, grown as thick as a log, wrapped it around Galen’s waist, and pulled the the two of them together. The other arm lashed out and wrapped around one of the merlons atop the wall. Using their momentum, Mino pulled both of them right up over the wall in a nauseating fling. Galen’s stomach almost left him when she yanked him to a halt right between Seira and Sybyll.

He looked over into the bailey and immediately wished he hadn’t. At least two dozen monsters were down there, scrambling about to fend off the attackers. A surprising majority of them were lamia, but Galen spotted others as well. Several had already climbed the staircases onto the wall, some on Sybyll’s side, some on Seira’s. Galen felt his heart drop. They’d barely broken in and already they were surrounded.

“This way!” yelled Seira.

Mino had to yank Galen out of his spot, but once his feet got moving, he doubted he could’ve stopped them. Three lamia stood in Seira’s path, charging to meet her. Galen wanted to call out to her, but his voice choked. Seira’s wings flared, her claws came out, and a terrible roar spewed from her mouth. He couldn’t tell which side ate the distance up quicker, but both had already been consumed by the heat of battle. The lamia stuck first with her tail, trying to slam Seira into the ground, but she wasn’t limited to the narrow walkway like the lamia was. Seira leapt off, and with a few beats of her wings, she was in striking distance. Lightning-fast claws tore through the lamia’s face, followed by a vicious punch to the stomach which landed so hard Galen could hear it. Even if Seira had missed the lamia’s eyes with her scratch, that punch took her out long enough for them to pass. The next lamia held a shortsword and shield, keeping her tail ready for any opportunity her sword might miss. Seira didn’t hesitate to leap in; she couldn’t afford to. They had to push through before the monsters behind them caught up and the monsters before them became too many to get through. Seira’s first strike was a plain swipe aimed for the lamia’s chest, which was taken by the shield with ease. The lamia grinned, bringing her sword to bear, but in the next instant it’d fallen from her hand. Seira’ intention was to get ahold of the shield in the first place. Seizing the lamia’s shield-arm behind the elbow, Seira growled and gave the arm a quick jerk. The tell-tale snap and following scream made Galen glad he’d never had an arm broken so rudely. Dazed by pain, the lamia did nothing to stop the following roundhouse kick, and another enemy was down.

It occurred to Galen this was the first time he’d seen Seira fight like this. They had a short scuffle in Fullsburg with the lamia, but the atmosphere had been completely different. There had been at least one of them to every enemy, and Galen had never doubted the town guard would come to help eventually. His pride had been on the line, nothing else. And while Seira had fought ferociously there as well, it had been far less focused, a tone of viciousness completely dulled by its bluntness, whereas tonight, he swore even her words could cut.

“Draw your damn sword!”

Galen started, leaving the daze Seira’s form had put him under. The third lamia was already down and they were past the top the staircase the monsters had been coming up. Sybyll still held up the rear, and Galen’s legs pumped on instinct, but completely absent from his mind was the need to fight. He’d been so intent on the actual infiltration and the weight of their situation he hadn’t had the mind to draw Toneruth. Fumbling with the hilt, he started to pull the blade free, only to be impeded by the sword’s swinging with his run. After several tense seconds, he finally succeeded, looking to Seira with a touch of excitement only to find her charging ahead, Galen’s absent-mindedness already out of her mind. The battlements ended at a door to a tower, which Seira threw open.

“Keep close!”

Mino and Galen hit the door seconds later. Mino scrambled in first and Galen held the door, looking back for Sybyll. An arachne had climbed the wall straight up to her, but with a few swordstrokes blurred by their speed, the spider-woman was dispatched. When Sybyll saw Galen waiting, she waved him forward.

“Onward! You must stay with Seira! I am extremely difficult to kill, but if you are not with her to strike down Medusuub, all is for naught!”

He gritted his teeth, turning to the inside of the tower. Seira and Mino were making headway up a spiral staircase.

“Don’t you forget what you’re wearing on your arm!” he yelled, and dashed to the staircase. The stone steps gave his rushed footsteps a dull thud, mixing with the sloshing of Mino’s and the scraping of Seira’s. Even here, the stone held an odd smooth quality, as if the entire castle had been carved from a single rock.

What felt like only seconds after he’d begun his ascent, Galen’s lungs violently protested with mucus and ragged breaths. His arms and legs burned for rest. The journey from the boat still wore on his mind and body, yet he had no room for hesitation. Too many depended on him, though only a certain few hung on his throughts with any significance. He spit on the ground and hurried forward.

The staircase emptied out into another battlement, this one high enough to make out the sea and the terrible sight of the Scar. Below, Galen heard the scrambling and shouts of guards and other denizens of the castle gathering their might to stop the intruders. Torches flashed, throwing shadows on the walls and pushing back the night. Few lit the path before Galen, but he could make out another tower like the one he’d just left at the end of the battlements. Unfortunately, the distance separating them from the tower was not insignificant and, more importantly, wide open. Screeches rained down from the sky and Galen’s head snapped upwards. Seira was not the only one with wings.

Harpies made up most of the group coming for them, but Galen made out scales and bat wings as well. The wind shrieked with their approach. Galen ducked just in time to dodge a pair of claws aimed at his head. Seira did the same. Overwhelmed, all they could do was dodge, watch for the next attack, then dodge again. Progress had slowed to little more than a crawl, and Galen heard the thud of monsters landing on either side of them. Had the battlements been wide enough for them all to land, it likely wouldn’ve been the end of Galen’s little attack right there, but his group had weapons as well. Mino, unfazed by a few talons and claws, lauched herself upward, spreading herself thin enough to be a blanket, and sliming up as many monsters as she could. Galen gave a subdued cheer when all the afflicted monsters fell from the sky, unable to keep beating their wings with the additional weight. What remained of Mino’s body landed back on the battlements with a plop, forming into a noticeably-less opaque version of her.

“Are you going to be alright?” said Galen.

“Yeah! I can deal with this.”

He wasn’t entirely convinced, but now wasn’t the time to contest it. He’d just have to trust her. The rush of talons and footsteps snapped Galen’s attention back to the monsters who’d landed around them. Mino had helped, but there were still several monsters to deal with. A cry and slashing claws signaled Seira’s fighting. Swallowing the last of his hesitation, Galen brought Toneruth to bear and leapt at the closest enemy, a harpy. His first slash was dodged, too predictable and carried through without the speed to catch her. She threw her wing at his face, trying to scrape at his eyes with her feathers, but his duck back was just enough to keep him safe. Again, he slashed at her and again he was too slow. Back and forth they attacked, neither able to harm the other, Galen’s swings too deliberate and the harpy unwilling to commit to a more vicious strike. Galen cursed himself. Like this, the harpy was winning. Soon, either monsters would make it up the staircase they’d come from, more aerial reinforcements would arrive, or the harpy would finally connect. He’d been able to hit the lamia back in Fullsburg, right? The harpies in the Lands, too. Why couldn’t he do a thing to this harpy?

His next strike came out with a frustrated cry, but his emotion did little to help him land a blow. In fact, the harpy was now smiling. Galen waited for the counterattack, but it never came. The harpy had figured out the situation as well, and stopped attacking completely. Toneruth’s point dipped from its ready stance. ‘Think, Galen! You can’t afford to fail like this! How do you best hit an opponent on a narrow passage?’ His face twisted in concentration. The best method of attack would be… a thrust. Wait, that’s obvious! Why hadn’t he done that before? Taking a full step into his next strike, Galen feinted an overhead cut downward, but the moment the harpy moved to dodge, he snuck in a lighting-fast jab. When her eyes lit up in surprise, he knew the attack had connected. A frigid bite snapped at Galen’s hand, the same he always felt when Toneruth struck. The harpy fell to her knees and Galen quickly readied for the next opponent, trying his hardest not to smile.

“Galen! This way! We can’t fight here any longer!”

Seira called from behind him, waving toward the other end of the battlements, then took off. In front of Galen another harpy awaited a fight, but he could no longer give her one. He faked a jab to get some distance, then spun around and broke into a sprint. Annoyed at missing her chance, the harpy shrieked, undoubtedly in pursuit, but Galen didn’t look back. He had to put everything to making it to that doorway.

Legs and arms blurred as they fired off. Breathing rasped through distressed lungs, harsher than a pant, yet still he forced his body onward. Mino pushed herself to the side to allow Galen past and he buzzed by like a raging wind. Seira made it to the doorway and disappeared inside. Faster, faster, faster. Ignore the pain, the pressure. Stop and you’ll die. Slow and you’ll die. Galen realized at some point he’d started screaming. Shouting and shrieking chased him into the doorway. Made it.

He barely slowed to asses the new situation. Another stairway, just like before, but this one led downward. Seira was already halfway down. Galen took it without hesitation, hitting a smooth rhythm to eat up as many steps at a time as he could. Hopefully, Mino had made it out of the battlements as well and Sybyll was on her way to catching up. He grit his teeth. There wasn’t much reason to believe they’d join back up in this chaos, but Galen had to hold onto what he could. Both of them, at least, would be difficult to kill.

The stairway spilled out into another doorway, then a hall much wider than the battlements they’d just crossed. Surprisingly, the area was devoid of monsters.

“Good,” said Seira, glancing back to make sure Galen was there. “We beat them here. Should be smooth sailing until the throne room.”

“And how… how far is that?” Galen could hardly talk through his panting. Seira was doing much better, but he didn’t know how long that would last. Their pace must have been eating through her stamina like crazy.

“Right here, down a hall, left, another hall, and it’s the double-doors at the end of that.” She grabbed Galen’s wrist and dragged him forward. “Enough resting!”

As much as he wanted to negotiate for more time, he knew that wasn’t feasible. Lucky he had Seira here to yank him out of his rest.

While they still ran, it was no where near the sprint Seira had kept up thusfar. They must truly have been out of the guards’ reach for her to take it so easy. Galen shook his head, trying to scatter the constant thoughts of stopping and the weariness that snuck further and further into his consciousness. He’d hardly beaten the only monster he’d gone up against and the more he ran, the less energy he’d have to fight. Surely, from his labored breathing and uneven steps, Seira could tell this, right? He looked up to her face, but saw nothing of the sort. Her stare was forward, on their next objective.

She had to realize. Even she would be about worn out by the time they made it to the throne room. When they arrived, at the absolute minimum, they would need to deal with Medusuub--wearing the Covenant, assuredly--but more likely she would have some kind of guard. So why, if Seira did realize their situation, did she keep moving? Did she have no choice? Was the time they had before the guards made it not as much as Galen thought? Or was it…?

Galen swallowed. She knew what was going on, all right, she just had a different idea of what would happen when they arrived. She expected Galen to step up, swing Toneruth, and deal with everyone in their way with a single blow. He’d never told her he couldn’t use Toneruth like that. His face flushed red. He’d never figured it out, even today! And then he was stupid enough to keep it to himself! Why? He almost stopped to cry. It wasn’t Seira’s fault--in her mind, everything was according to plan. She had no reason to think otherwise.

He was going to fail her. Even after all she said to him earlier, he was going to fail. Maybe he had the confidence to not drag his feet, maybe he could put the fire in someone else’s fight, but when it came down to it, he couldn’t Cut with Toneruth. Motive, he had. Motion, he had. But the will to follow through? Could he really do that, knowing every monster before him would die? Knowing Sybyll would disappear, dying again for the sake of duty? When pushed up against the wall by Poseidon back in her dwelling, he’d still managed to weasel out of killing. Here he was again, but this time, it wasn’t a test or a quirk of politics, it was to end a war before it started.

Seira’s pace slowed, prompting Galen to look up. The double-doors were before them, sentinels of Galen and Seira’s inevitable fate. She’d been heading here for decades, Galen only weeks. Her excitement boiled to the surface, her crimson eyes alight with anticipation and the beauty Galen had come to recognize. One doorway away, one strike of Toneruth, and she would finally have everything she’d been working so hard for. Galen stepped to the side to avoid her swinging tail. A slight frown creased his face and he fell behind right as they made it to the door. Revenge. Galen was going to get Seira’s revenge for her.

She turned around, waving Galen up to the doors. “C’mon. This is it. Do your thing and this is all over.”

He glanced at the hallway behind them. Still empty, but he thought he heard footsteps approaching. “What about all the guards? Won’t they be mad at us for killing their monster lord?”

A smirk. Such confidence might not fit this situation so well, he thought, but maybe it would be too pessimistic to dismiss it altogether. “Guards and whatever political friends Medusuub have will very quickly become ours. They will follow and respect the ones in power, and after seeing Toneruth again, there will be no doubt where that power lay.”

“Mmm.” No pressure. Straightening his back, Galen slipped Toneruth back into its sheath and took a step back from the doors, lining himself up with the middle of them. What he thought about the matter had lost its importance: he needed to strike with Toneruth, and he needed to do it now. His right hand closed once more on the hilt, fingers going numb with their grip. If he couldn’t find a will to Cut with, he would make one. Countless thousands of monsters and humans may die should another war break out. Seira, Mino, and Sybyll would all be doomed should he fail here and Toneruth would fall into enemy hands. Seira would never regain what she lost. Mino’s question would forever remain unanswered. Sybyll would wander, her self eroding until there was nothing left. He would never see Nox again, never see his mother, never make his father proud. He would die, all because he forced his stubbornness into this conflict--because he couldn’t stand the idea of doing what circumstance asked of him. This one time, he would not rebel. He would follow the plan. He had to.

His jaw hurt from how hard his teeth gnashed. Spring-loaded muscles gripped Toneruth with steel fingers. It was time.

“Open the door.”

Unable to hide a smile, Seira nodded at him, turned, and threw the double doors open.

Galen pounced. He hit the doorway at a run, his eyes searching for the only thing that mattered now: his target. They landed on the only medusa in the room, right in front of him, standing before a grand throne. A great expanse of no consequence separated them, for the scarlet lightning could explode across distance as if it wasn’t there. A small crowd of onlookers’ gasps tensing did nothing to stop Galen’s motion, his arm commanding he strike, demanding the sword Cut, and obliterate every thing that dared exist in front of him. The sword soared from the sheath as Galen’s voice pounded the air.

The end result was several confused monsters, a frigid Seira, and Galen swallowing an embarrassment so thick and stark it almost caught in his throat. Medusuub was the first to recover, pointing at Galen with amusement.

“Kill him first. I want to save the manticore for later.”

A lamia tail caught Galen full in the chest, flinging him right back out the door he’d charged in. As he lay on the ground, dazed, he heard the scuffling of tails, claws, and paws approaching. So that was it, huh? All that work, the fight for survival, the journey, the indecision, fear, and his triumph over it, all lost because he couldn’t follow a single, simple plan. Some part of him had still held out for something more, wanted to squeeze some fortune out of the drear that drenched them all, and kept the power of Toneruth bottled up within him.

“You’re still alive, monkey-fucker! Get up!”

A maroon paw seized him by the shirt and yanked him to his feet. Somehow, he stayed upright and when he checked his right hand, found Toneruth still in his grip. It looks like that same part of him hadn’t given up yet.

Seira stood by his side, but before them stood much more. The largest of the three lamia which had been pursuing them in Fullsburg earlier was in the front of the group and likely the one who’d sent Galen flying. Behind her, a dragon, a salamander, an oni, and a ushi-oni. The color drained from Galen’s face, and he could swear he heard the same happen to Seira. A group perfect for combat with a mix of strength, speed, and stamina, all far physically superior to a human. Galen had just barely pushed the lamia back the first time they met, and only with a distraction. Here, he would have no such luxury.

Seira dropped lower into a ready stance. “Stick together. Don’t let them surround us. Take whatever they give you, but don’t get greedy.”

“How cute. You’re even protecting each other.”

Galen gritted his teeth and brought Toneruth up. He wouldn’t betray that part of himself by giving up… but hope might not be enough for this. The dragon and the salamander started coming around Galen and Seira’s right, while the oni and ushi-oni took their left and the lamia advanced on their front. They slowly backed up with their enemies’ movements, unwilling to let themselves be surrounded so easily, but it was only a matter of time before one struck.

The salamander’s itchy swordarm owned the first blow. It came so fast Galen hardly had time to notice it, her cleaver of a sword slicing the air in one clean stroke, intent on separating Galen’s right arm from his body.

Somehow, she lost hers instead.

Blood splashed on the salamander and Galen both as her liberated arm flopped to the floor, making him wince without realizing it. In the void of shock following, while everyone stood still and stared at the arm, a flash of green delivered a sword tip straight to the salamander’s heart, diving in and out of her chest in a moment. She crumpled, and a very welcome lizardman stepped up in her place.

“That should help the odds a bit.”

“Sybyll!” Galen almost dropped Toneruth to hug her. He HAD heard footsteps before, they just didn’t belong to who he’d thought. All he spared was a wide grin before turning back to their opponents. Not only were they still outnumbered, but dragons and ushi-onis were especially hard to take down, the lamia’s body gave her a versatile combat style, and onis were both fiercely strong and quick. If only he could use Toneruth…

“I take it the primary plan did not work as intended,” said Sybyll, eyeing the enemy monsters and the very alive and intact Medusuub far behind them.

Seira merely growled in response. Galen shuddered at that--she probably had a million things she wanted to yell at him right now. Hopefully she’d be able to use that anger against their enemies and drain it all out before she got the chance to turn it on him.

The monsters continued to close in. The battle was seconds away, close enough for Toneruth to churn cold with the anticipation of a cut. Sybyll’s gaze darted around the room, probably considering and dismissing dozens of possibilities each second. While Seira had some fight prowess, it was Sybyll Galen put his real faith in when set up against these sorts of odds.

“Follow,” was all she said before bursting forward, straight at the dragon. Her sword was out and clashing against the dragon’s claws before Galen’s legs obeyed his command to run. The lamia, closest of the other monsters, lashed out like a viper with her short sword, intent on skewering Galen, but with a kick from Sybyll on the attacking arm and a slick dodge from Galen, he was past and back into the the throne room. Seira was already up and jumping to Sybyll’s aid, sending a strike at the dragon’s shoulder, but it was tossed away with a wing and the situation reset to what it had been moments before, only this time, Galen and his companions were in the throne room, and three of their four opponents had to fit through the doorway back in to fight.

Seira and Sybyll didn’t waste the opportunity. Both laid into the dragon with everything they had. Sybyll’s arms and legs moved with dizzying speed, Seira’s attacks came with enough power to send an echoing thud through the room. Using her wings for defense, the dragon was just barely able to prevent a killing blow, but the tender sections of her wings were starting to tear, and Sybyll’s sword had bitten into her side time and time again. Galen found his hopes rising again.

A club lashed out, intercepting one of Seira’s attacks meant for the dragon’s neck. She grunted, falling back, and refocused on her new opponent. The oni had made it through.

All this happened in mere seconds. Galen’s mind could hardly keep up with the moment, much less react to it. Such a short time ago he’d been sparring with his father in his backyard, struggling to go beyond intermediate swordplay, but this… how could anything prepare him for this?

When the lamia slid up to the dragon’s side, setting Sybyll in a two-on-one, Galen knew his turn was up. It wasn’t a matter of whether he could or could not--his actions would answer that. At least it wasn’t another harpy. He advanced. The lamia regarded him not with the contempt he’d seen for Seira, or the solemnness he’d seen for Sybyll, but rather annoyance. He was the disposable one, the pestering little human who might as well have been a fly buzzing around her face. All she needed to do was swat.

Her tail struck first, like a spear jutting out of the air beside her, intent on Galen’s heart. With only inches to spare, he deflected the strike to his side, stepping forward into the parry, and switched his grip to attack. The lamia, however, still had her sword and shield free to deal with his upward cut. She threw his sword aside with a heave, shoving him off-balance, and aimed her own sword at his chest. Tensing at the sight of the strike, he twisted his body, watching as the sword glided across his stomach. It ate skin and clothes, but not much else. Galen hit the ground rolling, and continued to roll until he felt he had put enough space between him and his opponent, then jumped back to his feet as quick as he could. Just as he was bringing Toneruth up again, the lamia’s tail came out once more, this time a sideways sweep aimed at his hip. Too high to jump over, and too low to duck with so little time, he jumped--no, threw his body backwards, out of the tail’s range.

His fingers tightened on Toneruth’s hilt. Her tail was the real problem. If he got in close, she could use her sword and shield for defense and smash him with her tail. At any sort of distance, she could strike with impunity and Toneruth would never reach her. Sweat dripped down in front of his eye, and the sound of his heavy breathing hit his ears. In training and in practice, he’d only ever fought opponents who needed some kind of recovery time, or whose attacks had some form of drawback, but with this lamia, he had to defend at least two of her attacks without using Toneruth in order to have it ready for an attack of his own. His eyes went lower. While her human half was certainly the most vulnerable and likely more vital part of her body, it was also easier for her to defend. Maybe if he aimed lower, he could weaken her enough for something for decisive. Those scales wouldn’t be able to match Toneruth.

In his moment of thought, the lamia had advanced, this time choosing her sword for the initial attack. Dodge. He had to dodge. Her weight twisted, her shoulders shifted, and Galen moved accordingly--two steps to her right, toward her sword arm. Instincts yelled at Galen, telling him to move away from the danger instead of toward it, but he’d chosen correctly. The sword passed harmlessly to his left. His eyes immediately went to her tail, and just in time. She’d used the attack to give it a chance to coil around him, but with a hurried jump forward, he cleared her tail and the closing trap it had set. He spun around the moment he landed and Toneruth flashed. Magic sword swept through scale as if it weren’t there, and the cold touch of success ran through Galen’s hands.

Shouting, the lamia spun and lashed out with her shield. Even injured, she moved with speed easily beyond Galen’s. He was still following through when the shield caught his arm. Pain ripped through the arm and one hand lost its grip on Toneruth, throwing Toneruth’s momentum out of control and forcing Galen to shift his balance to keep from falling over. The lamia never slowed, using the motion of her spin to follow shield with sword and opened a fine wound on Galen’s shoulder. Again pain blossomed. Crying out, Galen stumbled backward, one hand grabbing the cut on instinct. The wound reacted to the touch with a fresh wave of pain.

The combatants had a moment to stare at each other, both reeling from a wound, sizing up their opponent with the information gained from the last exchange. Galen had been upgraded to a rat.

In the brief reprieve, Galen’s body reminded him of everything it didn’t have, that every moment since he’d hopped off the boat had compounded on those after it. Every second in combat strained him beyond what he’d thought possible, and the only thing keeping him in that realm of impossibility was the knowledge that the alternative was death. Soon enough, he would ask for something his body could not deliver, and that would end him. He blinked constantly, trying to keep the sweat out of his eyes. Toneruth’s blade wavered in his vision, and outside the lamia, the rest of the room blurred. His knees groaned in constant protest, his chest ached, it burned, it pounded, as desperate as Galen himself.

He was losing. He was absolutely losing. Even if Seira and Sybyll could defeat the monsters they fought, Galen would find his end here. If, by some stroke of luck, he managed to end it with the next attack, he couldn’t possibly come out unscathed, and another wound piled atop the mountain of burden already upon him would finish him off. Toneruth would no longer have a weilder, and protected by the Covenant, Medusuub would be untouchable. The armies would never see the Toneruth light the sky, no miracle would separate them before they could send humans and monsters down that bloody path once more.

Galen spit. Something steadied Toneruth in his grip. The damn sword he’d put so much faith in, put so much time into repairing, was still nothing more than a sword in his hands. Back on Nox, it had been a legend of mystery and power, a goal, an ambition, some relic which could bring dreams to reality. And it could, actually. But it cost. It cost so much. Galen’s gaze focused on Toneruth. It was even laughable at first sight, broken down the middle and the sheath covered in dust. A glint reflected off the sharp edge, making Galen squint. It might even be considered half a sword, with the blade only being on one side, taking from--

Wait.

The blade was only on one side.

Galen nearly lost his grip on the sword.

The blade was only on one side.

The room faded away to black but for that thin slice of metal before him. Heat washed over him, crashing against his body like a wave. His spine tingled. His eyes went wide. His muscles stopped shaking, all protest lost. The mages who created the sword--Edward said there was much he didn’t know, much they experimented with. Could they have possibly gone beyond experimentation? ‘The sword stands for itself,’ Edward had said. And the blade was only on one side.

Galen looked up. His reaction clearly had not gone unnoticed, and the lamia had braced herself instead of striking. He’d inadvertently bought himself the sliver of time he needed. He glanced behind himself to Medusuub, still standing half the room away, intent on the battles before her. With this knowledge, he could strike. He could Cut. It was perfect for him.

He turned back to the lamia, glared, then found Sybyll fighting off both the ushi-oni and the dragon. His heart leapt at seeing the medal still shining proudly on her arm, though not without a splash of blood on it. Nothing held her back anymore, just the same as him.

He sheathed Toneruth.

“Sybyll!” he shouted. She somehow found the room to look back at him.

“Goodbye!”

That’s all it was. Goodbye. He had no time to add more and his mind frankly hadn’t the strength to push out the words he wanted to say. ‘It’s been fun.’ ‘I’ll miss you.’ ‘I hope you’ve found what you’ve been looking for.’ ‘Thanks for everything.’ A rushed farewell ended up being another transgression forced upon the tireless lizardman. Heck, Seira and Mino didn’t even know she’d be disappearing. Did they have words to say to Sybyll as well? Conversations left unsaid? He never even asked what Sybyll felt about leaving so suddenly. Sure, she said she didn’t care, that it was part of her duty, but something told him the truth lied deeper, with the part of her that wore her medal with pride. Ironic, now, that his regrets all seemed to be centered around other people once he’d gotten his own thoughts together.

He’d make it up to her, somehow.

Spinning on his heel, Galen exploded forward toward Medusuub. Legs which had burned with fatigue now burned with strength. Labored lungs swallowed air with ease. A dying heart beat life, and fear fled from hope. Galen broke into a sprint that flowed and sped like wind, each part of his body moving with a single purpose.

One hand on the sheath, one on the hilt. He kept his posture low, cutting through the space between him and Medusuub as quickly as his legs could eat it up. The lamia chased as fast as she could, but she couldn’t possibly stop him. Nothing could stop him, human, monster, or deity. From the moment he had broke into action, his path had been decided, etched into the flow of time by his will like a chisel took to stone. His voice rose bellowed out, pushing the overflowing raw energy within to the rest of the world to be heard in such a potent manner everyone in the room had to freeze and stare.

With a small tilt of his hand, Galen angled Toneruth just how he needed. Medusuub uncrossed her arms, her eyes finally drinking in the full sight of the thing before her. She stood right in front of him, a universe away, it mattered not. His right foot slammed down, his fingers squeezed and pulled with all the vigor he held within. Gleaming metal slipped free without a ripple of resistance. Galen screamed and flicked his wrist; a tiny twitch which made the act his own.

And he Cut.

Lightning, brighter than the sun and frigid to the core, obliterated everything in front of Galen. The wall behind Medusuub evaporated into a swirl of rock, dust, and debris, roaring outward into the night’s great expanse. It didn’t stop there. Blue lightning erupted from the castle, casting a brilliant wall of light down the line of Galen’s strike and bringing day to night. A visible concussion ripped through the air and pounded on the ears of all who heard it. The lamia, closest to Galen, was thrown several feet back and all of the others lost their balance. Stone shuddered at the might of the Cut, searing into its memory the terrible mark of a second Scar of the World. Through sea, cliff, air and darkness the lightning cut, pushing and paving its way beyond the horizon. Its deafening roar swallowed all sound. Galen’s own clothing tore from the fierce wind screaming from the point of contact, but his feet remained steady, anchored to the ground. He stared into the light, amazed and determined both.

After what felt like an eternity, sound returned to the world. The air settled but for the chill wind drifting in from the gaping hole, the void where the wall used to be. Crackling out to its last moments, the lightning faded and fizzled away, though a faint blue glow remained on Toneruth. Galen let the sword lower and its tip touch the ground. A diminishing warmth flowed into his body from the sword, though it did little to sooth his aching, spent muscles. He stood up straight, watching the spot he’d last seen his opponent. Huffing, he steeled his gaze. Toneruth had met his will with magic, and before him lay the result: a woman, entirely human, lying on the floor, eyes closed and breathing peacefully.

He’d done it. Medusuub was defeated. A laugh bubbled up from his stomach at the absurdity of it all, but he swallowed it back down. So long, it seemed he’d been chasing this goal, though not long in days and weeks, but encounters. Mallus. Ahdria. Poseidon. The harpy. Sybyll’s secret. Toneruth’s secret and all the stress it had given him. His father. Eyes sinking to the floor, he pursed his lips and wallowed in silence. His father. What would his father say now? Galen had protected the city, just like he said he would, but he half expected his father to yell at him when he saw him next. Maybe Galen had finally done something to make Hoem proud, and done it without having to compromise, without conceding an inch. A hollow smile creased Galen’s face. Something he could be proud of, at least.

The world lurched and Galen stumbled forward, clutching the wound the lamia had given him. Nausea rushed over him in a swoon. He wanted to flop over and faint, drift into sleep for the next day and dream of peace. He wanted to depart the world and let it sort itself out from what he’d just done. He couldn’t, however. Not yet.

Uneven steps approached from behind. Galen’s face fell, but he tossed away the pain before turning around. He was only half done. Even after all he’d asked of his mind and body, he would have to ask more.

He came face-to-face with Seira, clutching a wound on her side, her hair a complete mess, blood on her claws and mixing with sweat as it dripped down her face. Still, she kept her feet, kept those red eyes alight, and somehow that braid of hers survived the fight. Her horrid leer, a ghastly mix of excitement and awe, was locked on the sleeping Medusuub.

“So… it could do even that,” she said. Her excitement started to win out as a smile grew on her lips.

“It could,” said Galen.

“Then we’ve won.” Her breathing grew heavier.

“Yes, we have, assuming the monsters here behave like you said.”

She glanced back at the monsters they’d been fighting a moment ago. All were still in awe of witnessing Toneruth Cut a second time. “Yeah, they will. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not.” His worries lied elsewhere.

They stared at each other for a time, but Seira’s eyes kept drifting off to Medusuub’s unconscious body. She took another step forward. Galen didn’t move.

“It’s been too long. Too long running, too long hating, too long hiding and thinking through plans in my head. Too many disappointments and dead ends. Yet, I’m still here. I can have my peace.” Taking her paw off her wound, she laid one more foot-paw forward, her mouth gaping now. Galen spotted drool as well.

“This isn’t going to give you peace.”

“It has to.” She stepped to the side in order to get around Galen, but he stepped with her. “What are you doing? Get out of the way. You didn’t kill her so I could, right?”

“No.”

Her crimson glowed and bored a hole through Galen, but still he didn’t move. “Stop acting stupid. You did your part. The plan worked. We saved everyone. Medusuub has to know justice.”

“No. This isn’t about justice.”

A growl, low enough to make Galen’s bones shudder, emanated from Seira. She lifted her paw at him. “This isn’t the place or the time for your stubbornness. Move.”

“No.” The word rang out a third time. It reminded Galen of something like a town bell at midday. “I can’t let you.”

“Move!”

“It would ruin you.”

“Fuck me! I don’t give a spark in hell what it would do to me!”

“Even then, I still can’t move.”

“Why are you doing this? Out of some misguided commitment to your MORALS? Or do you think I’m some pure, dainty monster who should’nt kill anyone?” He opened his mouth to talk, but she wasn’t done. “Don’t you even THINK you can tell me I’ll become as bad as her, because not only is that impossible, there’s no reason to think it would happen!”

“Seira, please. Try to understand.” His body heaved in pain with each word, as if it was trying to reject them.

“Answer the question.”

Galen shook his head. “I’m not doing it for any of those reasons. It’s not for morals, I can’t speak for you or for her in this situation. I’m too young, too inexperienced. I don’t understand anything and I wouldn’t have the right to make judgements. I’m not doing it because I think you’re ‘pure’ or anything like that. I know you well enough to know you’ve traveled your own path to get here, and most of it was not the same as mine.” He ran his tongue over chapped lips, lips that ached to stay still. “If you kill her, I don’t know what will happen. I don’t think you’ll become anything like her--I think you would rather die before that happened.”

Seira finally began to calm, his words helping her to at least release a fist she’d been holding. Her eyes still cut through him, and her body tensed as if about to pounce. “Then why? Why are you stopping me? What possible reason could justify this?”

“Because you’re lying to yourself. Long ago, Sybyll told me you said this was to stop Medusuub and save monsters, that it wasn’t for revenge. I've been watching you, listening this entire journey, and you keep reiterating that. You're here to help the monsters, to stop the war, you say. And just now, you said you would kill her for justice, but you and I both know that’s not true. You’ve been lying to yourself this entire time, making up excuses about why it’s okay to kill her, why you deserve to be the one to do it. If you kill her now, it will be because you’ve convinced yourself all those lies are truths. You’ll be giving in to your bloodlust, and when your vision clears, how can you know you won’t give into it again? If you kill her, and you don’t find peace, how will you fill that void, the one you were so sure you’d be rid of? I’m standing in your way because I’m worried about you, and I don’t care what consequences that has if it means I can protect you.”

“Protect me? I am NOT some little girl who needs protecting! I know exactly what I am doing, Galen. I knew exactly what would happen when I got here. I know what it means to kill an enemy, to get revenge. Do you think Medusuub is the first monster I’ve sought out? Dozens before her, Galen. Dozens. And each step on that path has only led me here. You don’t need to ‘protect’ me. You can’t.” Her form rose higher, eyes lighting up as she shed the pain and weariness assaulting her. Galen knew the feeling, though his wasn’t born from quite the same emotion. “And you can’t stop me, either.” She took a step forward, one with clear intent. Any hesitance Galen’s presence pushed on her had evaporated.

"Doesn't that just confirm what I said? I didn't matter how many monsters you killed, you wanted more. You kept telling yourself lies and when each monster died and you didn't feel better, you believed you'd find peace with the next. Over and over again, you tricked yourself, and if you do this, no lie will save you. You'll be forced to face the truth, or create a lie so grand you won't be living in the real world any more."

She still kept moving forward. Raising a paw to push him out of the way, she said, "I don't want to have to hurt you."

Why did it have to end this way? “You have to stop. Please.”

“Why?”

The world went silent around him. “Because I couldn’t love you if you didn’t.”

Whatever Seira had to say next was stolen from her along with her breath. Her face flashed away from the murderous rage bearing down on Galen, yielding to something else, but only long enough for her to find a rebuttal. She spoke with unnecessary volume. "I have no reason to like you or care about what you think about me! You were just a traveling partner, nothing more! Who do you think you are, standing up to Seira Khertaleon?! You're nothing to me!"

"Then push me aside and take your revenge."

Seira grabbed Galen by the scruff of his shirt and shoved her face into his, spit flying from her mouth as she screamed. "Manticores are ferocious monsters! They don't feel any pity for their enemies or their prey! They do what needs to be done! I've worked the last 30 years for this, and your pointless little antics won't get in my way!"

"Then toss me away and take your revenge."

Somehow, her eyes lit up brighter, as if the fire inside of her was seeking to burst free of her body. Her lips curled up, showing rows of gnashing, furious teeth. Throwing Galen to the ground in front of her, she paced a small circle before coming back to point a finger at his frail form.

"When I told you to fight for the stupid things, I wasn't talking about this! Idiot! Buffoon! You weren't supposed to fight for this!" Biting her lip until she drew blood, she shook her head at Galen. Surely a war raged in her head, just as violent as any war fought with pikes and swords, but condensed into the frame of her mind. It ran though victories, defeats, retreats, and advances all told like story with voice of her eyes. Galen even rooted for her silently. ‘Be the manticore I know you are.’ Her mouth opened and closed, words formed and lost before her lungs could give them life. Everything she had clashed against everything she hoped for. Just as she had run through a hundred schemes, a hundred plans which all ended right where she stood, her mind ran through battle after battle, pushing away what she knew to be unavoidable, throwing every excuse at the ultimatum before her and coming up short. 

Her eyes softened like ice before a ferocious flame. She fell to a knee, eyes brimming with furious tears. "You weren't supposed to fight for this."

Galen took a step forward, speaking as gently as he could. "I’m doing it for y--"

“Don’t!” she screamed, jabbing a finger at him. “Don’t say ‘you’, don’t say ‘we’, don’t you dare! Don’t say another word!” She struggled back to her feet, stopping to glare at Galen, then pointed to the door. “Go.”

“I can’t--“

“Shut up. Go. Go. I don’t… I can’t… you will go. Stop standing there like an idiot and GO!”

Galen pushed back tears, pushed back the pain and sorrow. Not in front of Seira. He wouldn’t cry in front of her, not over this. He’d made his choice. Heavy feet carried him from the room, the room which stank of blood, pain, and loss. No amount of distance could take Galen away from it, or it away from Galen, but still he walked. He jogged, even if his body had not the strength to do it. He had to, he could no longer stand the stench of that place. The decision he made.

So this was what victory felt like.

**Chapter 40**

Cool air carried a rush of hollow stench, thoughts of rats, filth, and stale air invading Seira’s mind through her nose. The thick wooden door groaned and creaked as Seira pushed it all the way open, then let it close with crash and a rattle behind her. Her footpaws soaked up cold and moisture from the stone beneath, hitting her senses in waves with each step. She extended her torch out in front of her, the flames pushing back the darkness of a hall with no windows, not even a whisper of wind from the outside. Twitching ears picked up skittering, shuffling, and breathing. It’d been ages since she visited the monster lord’s dungeon, and even then, always accompanied by her mother and a guard. She hardly missed it; the stench offended her nose, and the walls never stopped rasping with the sound of critters and insects.

Her steps echoed through the cramped hallway, carrying her down to the second cell on the right. A dark wooden door, decayed but still thick and sturdy, stood before her, with a small window broken up by iron bars letting the light of her torch inside. Eyes stared back at her--her guest had been waiting.

“Made up your mind yet? You waited almost an entire day to see me.” The voice was neither haughty nor teasing, not worried, or rushed, just curious. Seira let out a snort. Even with such a question, the woman managed to piss her off.

“You’ll know when I do,” Seira replied.

“Good. The indecision is killing me.” The woman paced a small circle, putting her hands behind her back. She acted as if she owned the cell. “I’m sure you would hate for me to lose my life in such an unimpressive manner.”

“Shut up.”

“Shut up? Why would you come here but to hear me talk? Or do you enjoy reveling in your victory so much? You had me escorted from the throne room so very quickly.”

Seira spit into the cell, but fell to the floor several feet short of Medusuub, who glanced at it with indifference.

“I don’t need to gloat because it’s already apparent to everyone who matters that I’ve won. If you’re to talk, you will do it without that insufferable tone. I’m your lord now, I control your fate, and right now, I’m not exactly happy with you.”

Medusuub shot Seira a smirk. “I already know my fate. I will see nothing but these walls for the rest of my life.”

“You’re far too sure of yourself for a prisoner. Maybe I’ll take you out and have you tied to a few centaur, then run you along the castle grounds for a while. Maybe I’ll have that ushi-oni guard come in here, leave a hundred cuts in that little body of yours, and leak her blood into it. You would take weeks to change, overwhelmed with lust you’d never be able to contain, never be able to seal.”

Medusuub took a step forward, into the Seira’s spit, as if she was doing Seira favor. “Threats do not become you, especially when I know they lack genuity.”

Seira exhaled sharply through her nose. “You don’t know a damn thing.”

“You won’t be doing anything to me but leaving me here and if that knowledge hasn’t already spread down to everyone in this castle, it soon will. You made quite a scene.”

Seira’s teeth gnashed together so hard they clicked. Her fist pushed up against the door as she fought to keep from hitting it and her grip on the torch tightened so hard it burned. “You don’t know a damn thing!”

“You’re repeating yourself. Should I do the same?”

“Shut UP!” While able to hold her fists back, Seira wasn’t as successful with her leg. The door felt a kick.

“There you go again.”

Maybe just her face, thought Seira. Maybe if she just broke her nose, burned off her taste buds and mangled her face, that would be alright. Seira’s eyes narrowed. She should be ugly. That bitch of a woman should be ugly, she should be fat, diseased, and disfigured. What did it matter to the rest of the world, anyways? No one would ever see Medusuub again. She shouldn’t even be calling this monster Medusuub--she hadn’t the title to back it up. A lesser name, Rat, or perhaps Bitch would suit her nicely. 

“But you are right. I should not be teasing my interrogator. So why did you come?”

Medusuub shouldn’t have been the one to ask that, it should’ve been Seira making demands, instead. Had anyone accompanied Seira down here, they would’ve been embarrassed for her.

“I need to know how you got arachnes and lamia working together. Why dragons are fighting in defense of the monster lord when one thing they hate more than anything else in the world is fighting for something they don’t own. How harpies and mothmen fly the same sky with succubi and wyverns. I’ve seen monsters that wouldn’t be caught leagues within each other fighting side-by-side. You need to tell me why.”

“Not going to try to puzzle it out yourself? You could learn a surprising amount that way.”

“Cut the teasing. I’ve neither the time nor the patience.” That was something more like a monster lord would say. “Either tell me now, or tell me a few days from now after you succumb to the torture.”

Medusuub smiled. “Though it may surprise you, I actually have no issue with telling you. Whether or not you make the correct decisions with the information I give you concerns me much more.”

Seira stared into her opponent’s eyes, watching as the light of the torch danced in her irises. “I don’t know enough about you to be surprised. That’s why I bothered to come myself and didn’t skip straight to the torture.”

“Then perhaps there is hope for monsters yet.”

“And why do you care about that? Especially now that you’re a human. A certain succubus even told me your entire village was killed by monsters.”

Those eyes flicked away, a tangled line of thought running through them and catching Medusuub’s tongue for a moment. “Did she, now…” She tossed her hair back. “I suppose it wasn’t going to stay secret forever. But do my motivations even matter now? I’m clearly no longer a player in this scene.”

“Your motivations matter because I need context. Were you trying to destroy monster hierarchy as some kind of revenge? Or were you just looking to kill as many as possible in a ridiculous war?”

Medusuub chuckled--a low, hearty laugh which echoed through her lonely cell and made Seira’s ears twitch. “Did you really think this was all for revenge? Done in spite? No, Khertaleon, not at all. It actually has everything to do with your first question, the reason you came down here in the first place.”

Seira sneered. She couldn’t shake the feeling she was still being mocked.

“The first and most fascinating thing I learned after becoming a medusa was exactly how much monsters seem to hate each other. Not at all what I expected. As a human, monsters were always one mass of a threat. It mattered not whether they were allied or alone--an arachne, a harpy, a dragon, a manticore--none were human, and rape and murder end up the same regardless of who does it. Granted, certain species could be more… tactful about it, but there were always exceptions. Humans seemed united against monsters for the most part, so why wouldn’t monsters be the same?” Another step forward brought Medusuub right up to the door. She placed one of her small hands in the space between the bars of the window. “No, monsters are fearful in all the ways humans are. Fearful of what they do not understand, and with such variance between species, there was much misunderstood. Makes sense if you think about it long enough.” She gave a slight nod. “I decided to fix that. The first step, of course, was to take the title of monster lord for myself, but I don’t need to recant that tale for you, do I?”

Fresh anger boiled up within Seira, but she held her tongue. If Medusuub wanted to rant, then Seira would let her until she had what she’d come for.

“Monsters needed something to turn their misunderstandings toward other than each other, so I gave them humans. There were details to work out, of course, which is why it took so long to get to this point, but monsters were ready enough to redirect their ire.”

“That sounds like the making of a war to me. One which would end in many needless deaths and perhaps even the end of the monsters. You have to know how the last war ended.”

“I do. The succubi and slimes would undoubtedly take humanity’s side, even if it meant the extinction of every other monster race. They look out for themselves, I can respect that.”

“Then why bring monsters and men to the brink of war?!”

“Because I never intended to push them over the edge. That force outside Uuluth? How many do you think were armed? Armored? How many knew how to fight? How to take a city? How many monster generals do you think there are? How many do you think even follow the monster lord more closely than Poseidon?” Medusuub shook her head. “That overgrown scylla is subservient in words only. You would do well to keep caution around her.”

She had no idea.

“They needed an enemy, I gave them one. They needed to act, I gave them a means. They needed purpose, they needed to heal that aching wound the war had left and made no effort to soothe, and I gave them a bandage. Do you know what they were going to do after they’d finished gathering at Uuluth? Make demands. More importantly, make demands as monsters. Not as lamia, ushi-onis, wyverns, aluranes, or echindna, but monsters. They could share that title, at least. Do you know what monsters want? Not every monster, and not even the prevailing sentiment in some species, but still common enough? The chance to live without being alone. For whatever cursed reason, the great demon made no monster males, made us--no, not us anymore. Them. Made them dependent on human males and inflamed that dependence with desire. Even if they don’t choose or take a mate, they still want to live around others. Some want to live with other monsters, some want to live with humans. Maybe they want a husband, maybe they want someone to fuck, maybe they want no one. But they still want that chance, that choice. While it may have gone against instinct and years of tradition, I wanted them to do it how only a monster who was once human would do it--I wanted them to ask.” Medusuub leaned up against a nearby wall, intertwining her fingers as if praying. “I used the word ‘demand’ to maintain pride, but when you approach the most heavily-guarded human city with an unorganized mess of unarmed monsters, you are asking, no matter what you might think.”

Seira couldn’t keep her mouth from cracking open in a slight gape. Ask? How could she ever have expected to gain anything that way? Humans still harbored plenty of hate for monsters, and gathering an army sure as hell wasn’t going to soothe any tempers. To top it all off, if she was to be trusted, the whole thing was just a feint. She’d gathered so many monsters together just to talk? How on earth were the humans supposed to realize that? She may have intended it to be a feint, but what was to stop Uuluth from striking first?

Her entire journey since Poseidon--the rush to Uuluth, to repair Toneruth, their desperate storming of the castle while thousands of lives stood in the balance--was unnecessary? “Are you saying this whole thing with Uuluth, with the war, was a misunderstanding?”

“A misunderstanding? No, no, not at all. I sent what amounted to an army to the king’s doorstep. I did that precisely so there would be no misunderstanding. It was a show of force, of intent. It was the only way to make the king take our--their demands seriously.”

Seira couldn’t decide whether she wanted to barge into the cell and strangle Medusuub, or fall flat on her ass. She ended up doing neither. What was the point in throwing a fit? Medusuub had spent her entire life throwing obstacles at Seira, it was no surprise she hadn’t stopped until the power to do so had been taken from her.

“Why, then? You still haven’t answered me about that. Why give a damn about monsters?”

Medusuub rolled her head along the wall to meet Seira with a lazy stare. “Some people have different reactions to the events thrust upon them. While you seem so dead-set--well, SEEMED so dead-set on revenge after the event which changed your life, my thoughts went elsewhere when I was met with mine. It’s not so bad being a monster, I decided, and I chose to do what I could to prevent what happened to me from happening to others.” Her lips curled into a slight smile. “A noble cause, yes?”

“Spare me. You trampled all over the concept of ‘noble’ when you murdered my family.” Her eyes narrowed. “There are ways to help monster-human relations that don’t involve gratuitous killing.”

“Methods which your mother was just so intent on following, right?”

“Do not even THINK you can talk about her.” Fire spouted out of Seira’s mouth with her breath. “I may not intend on killing you, but I can make every waking moment a nightmare.”

“Very well.” Medusuub shrugged, though her stiffness betrayed a lack of acceptance. There was clearly more she wished to say. “I cannot convince you any further. You have the truth, you can do what you want with it. My part is spoken.” 

Seira wasn’t about to encourage her to ramble any further. She half-turned from the door, constantly looking back to the tiny barred window separating her from Medusuub. How much of her testimony could be trusted? Every monster feels themselves vindicated in their actions--Seira’s mother had taught her that. Seira didn’t doubt Medusuub saw herself as some savior of the monster races, didn’t put it past her to ignore the flowing river of blood she’d left behind her and the one she was about to create. Her results, however, could not be ignored. Monsters in numerous species had united under Medusuub, given a common cause. Would they stay united under Seira? She sighed, turning from the cell door. A long path lay ahead of her.

“How is he, by the way?”

Seira froze. Her footpaws curled up and dug into the cool stone. She sucked in a breath, only to have it catch in her throat. “Who?”

“You know who. I do owe him, I suppose. And I believe there was something in him I admired. Something… hmm, what would the word be? Worthy?”

Worthy. Seira grimaced. That wasn’t the first time she heard that word used to describe him. “I don’t know where he is and I don’t care.” She started to walk away but Medusuub’s voice called out once more.

“I think that would be a mistake.”

“All the more reason to not care.”

“He saved you.”

Seira spun around, slamming her foot against the door in a vicious kick. Splinters broke free of the weathered door, and pain surged down her leg, but dissipated under the heat of her rage. “He ruined me! I gave everything I had to kill you, to blast your blood all over the same castle to which you gave my family’s, and when I thought I’d finally gained my goal, he stood in my way! He had the nerve to call me a friend, to gull me into being his! He’s a traitor, a swine, a beast in human clothing! He even tricked me into l--“ Words lost the air that gave them life. Seira glared at the door before hitting it again. “Fuck that little goddess-spawn, that brainless monkeyfuck. Why should I give a damn about where he is? I want nothing to do with him for the rest of my life! If I ever see him again, I’m going to beat him within an inch of his life and throw him in that cell with you! You seem to care about him so much and he obviously cares about you.”

“You are deluding yourself if you think he acted in my interest.”

“You’re alive because of him, aren’t you?” Snarling so fierce her face hurt, Seira spat on the ground. “Fuck this. I’m not talking about that worthless pile of sl--of shit. And he doesn’t have a thing to do with you, either.”

“You gave everything you had for your dream. He gave everything for his. Would you begrudge him that?” A short pause broke up her thoughts. “Monsters and men are not so different, I think.”

“Your lecturing is boring and pointless. And I said I wasn’t talking about this.” Seira spun on her heel and trudged up the steps to the dungeon door as loud as she could. Throwing the door open, she shouted one last rebuke down to Medusuub. “He’s nothing to me.”

“And yet I still live.”

The dungeon door closed with a slam, echoing throughout the empty castle halls. Seira shoved the torch back into its brace and stomped toward the throne room, trying to throw off the strange weight pressing down on her shoulders, but each step only made it heavier.

Medusuub was right: she was still alive.

Storming down the hall, mind so focused on the conversation she’d just had, Seira jumped when someone tapped her on the shoulder with a cool touch. She spun on the intruder, ready to spill out the breadth of her frustration, only to stop with her mouth half-open when she recognized the one who’d stopped her. A slime, small and grinning, with clear intent in her eyes.

  
**

  
Galen collapsed into the tree’s embrace, breathing heavy but sighing at the chance to rest. The sun had not been kind today, beating on his back as he’d worked, not an ounce of remorse in its heat. Galen was fresh out of self-pity, however, and had plowed through the day as if nothing else mattered. He needed to be done by the end of the day so he could finally leave. The place had grown sickeningly stale and thick with the threat of regret. The humidity made his breathing taste like stagnant water. Air caught in his lungs like grease. With the last of his strength, he drove the shovel into the ground and let his arms flop out, worn to the bone.

He squinted into the sun. Late afternoon. Too early to escape the brunt of the heat, yet sunset was still so far away. His work had burned away the hours as he’d hoped, but not enough of them, it seemed. Leaning his head back, he licked the sweat from his upper lip. Day’s end would come, no matter what. He just needed a little more patience, then he could be gone, on his way back to Uuluth and his father. A small smile grew on his lips. His father had probably figured out where that light had come from, what it meant for the city, and, unlike everyone else, exactly who had caused it. That suited Galen perfectly fine. He didn’t need to be a hero, didn’t need the parade and grand welcome home, for he finally held that pride he’d been aching for, one which he could carry back to his father walking tall and straight. Doubt nagged at Galen, asking if Uuluth had truly come out unscathed, if everything ended how they planned it. It was possible the light of Toneruth had spurred the monsters onward, as foolish as the act may have been. It was possible people fought and died--but somehow, that doubt never gained weight with Galen.

He wondered why.

Grunting, he rolled over to his side, looking out at the beach. The Kraken was still wading in the shallow water, and upon seeing him watching her, threw him a kiss and waved with several of her tentacles. He did his best to keep from rolling his eyes and turned back. Now that he was all alone, he’d have to keep an eye on her. They would be together for the journey back to Uuluth, at the very least. After that, who knew? She was loyal to Poseidon, but she also appeared fiercely interested in Galen. Groping him right in front of Seira, cooing whenever she spoke to him, and reacting very openly to anything he might ask of her.

Except for his request to leave, of course. Her reaction to that had struck him speechless.

“Go?” she had said, “But you’re all alone, and there are naughty monsters in the sea.” Her grin had widened and those eyes had dripped with seduction.

“I… Yeah, I am alone. And I don’t think anyone else is coming.” He’d waited until sunup outside the castle for Mino to show, but she never did. He had no way to contact her, but surely she would be able to figure out where Galen was? His exit hadn’t been exactly subtle, and there was only one location they were all familiar with. If she had left the castle, Galen would’ve seen her, or at least she would’ve seen him.

“Are you sure you’re alone?”

He remembered being unable to keep eye contact. “I’m pretty sure.”

“You don’t sound so sure. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to wait around a little longer, just to be safe.”

He tried arguing, of course, but the conversation never progressed beyond that. “Stick around, just until the end of the day,” she’d said. Whatever. He’d used up all his energy in a different argument. Of all the places to run into complications, the Kraken was certainly not one he’d anticipated. Hanging his head, he’d trudged off the beach, accepting her compromise with grumbling.

So now here he was, sitting under the shade of a tree, waiting. Thinking. He’d tried pushing the thinking away with a task and pursued it single-mindedly. It’d fit the moment and his attitude well. Mindless, repetitive, and relentless, the task had eaten away at his stamina and his aching thoughts. Whenever his mind would wander, he’d attack the ground with renewed vigor and pull his thoughts back. The last thing he needed to do was think.

Yet, a worn-out husk of a man lying beneath the slowly-setting sun had nothing else to do, nothing to distract him any more.

Mino. Hopefully, she’d made it out okay. He’d left her atop the battlements, most of her body used up to cover his and Seira’s sprint. Mino had shown she had the tools to be springy and tough to catch, but that didn’t make her opponents any less capable or overwhelming. Did the fighting even stop after Galen had unleashed Toneruth? Surely the entire castle had heard and felt it, but how did they react? Galen laid his hands on his chest, feeling his chest deflate with another deep exhale. Callouses had formed on his fingers and the hard nubs rolled across his chest as his hands slid off. He’d left so much behind in that castle… maybe it was best Mino stayed there, too. She could’ve lived, she could’ve died, but could he continue on with her still by his side? Besides, she still had a curiosity to satiate, and his journey was now over. An entire continent waited for her, why stay with Galen?

His stomach twisted and churned. Beneath his hands, his face writhed in discomfort, an alien uneasiness spreading throughout his body. Knowing he would be leaving Sybyll behind didn’t make it any easier. She’d just found herself again! Why did the world--no, why did he have to take that away? Like giving her a present then snatching it out of her hands before she had the chance to appreciate it. One hand went to his waist, grasping at the air where a sword should’ve been. Did Sybyll hate him for it? She certainly had the right to. A surge of nausea hit Galen and he sat up, holding his stomach and ready to puke. The sweat dripping from his face wasn’t only from exhaustion. Sybyll deserved so much more. When he returned to Uuluth, he would have to tell Edward about what happened. Cea, too, when he could make it down to her house. He lifted his gaze to the spot where he’d been digging. All that he had left was the hope it was enough.

His eyes glanced to the searing sky once more, blinding him for the moment they touched the sun. Still too long to sundown. The towers of the monster lord’s castle--Seira’s castle--stood within sight, a reminder which refused to stay hidden. His gaze followed the castle to the cliff, to the sea. A second Scar cut deep into the land, not quite parallel to the other, and not quite the same width, at least where Galen could see it. The patch of land between them was completely free of water, an awkward island between two monstrosities. Galen worried for a moment that the second Scar would topple the castle, but whatever magic had kept it stable in the first place still held strong. The castle hadn’t moved an inch since he’d Cut into the land.

He hugged his legs to his chest, staring out into the distance, sometimes following the new Scar, sometimes trying to make out details in the cliffside, sometimes watching the long grass sway back and forth. A stronger breeze would’ve been nice. It had no right to be so hot at this time of year. When he made it back home, he could look forward to some clothes other than this simple shirt and pants. Resting his head on his knees, he stole another peek at the castle. He wouldn’t be back here again probably ever again--would be a pity not to enjoy the sight of it while he could. If he squinted, he could make out the aerial patrols in the sky. One of the larger specks he concentrated on. A dragon, maybe? It was far too large to be a harpy. Maybe it was a mothman? Their wings could give it the appearance of a larger monster. He squinted harder. Was it growing? The speck was far too large to be a single monster. What the heck was it? Or was--

Galen lifted his head. Someone was coming. Someone with wings. Someone who knew exactly where he was. Unable to bring himself to stand or even move, he watched, and he waited.

The monster landed as if in slow motion, her wings breaking her fall and bringing her to a hover with just a few beats before letting her drop onto the ground. Galen swallowed. She shouldn’t be here. Not after what he did. When he looked at her face, he could only see it enraged and screaming, pouring out her life and anger in scorching words and spit. Slowly, he stood, his legs shaky but unwilling to give up. At least, not in front of Seira.

She stood straight but not stiff, arms at her sides but not quite touching her body. The backdrop of her wings shrunk until they folded up nicely behind her, the tops still peeking out over her shoulders as if they, too, wanted to watch the encounter and were unwilling to disappear completely. Her braid swung back and forth in the gentle breeze, the one part of her that never seemed to change. A burnt orange, almost like dying leaves in fall. His eyes met hers. That crimson struck him from across the distance, piercing and vigorous as ever, unyielding and determined. Galen recalled a night shortly after meeting her, one where he lit a candle in the depth of night to illuminate that face and those eyes so uniquely hers. And now he learned why it had made him so uncomfortable.

“Galen.”

She said his name less like a name and more like a punctuated statement meant to place upon him a title. He could draw nothing from it.

“Seira.”

What was he supposed to say back? Hi? She wasn’t supposed to be here! What he did to her… had their places been switched, he, well, he didn’t know what he’d do, but he probably wouldn’t be seeking her out again so soon. To have someone you trusted sweep your legs out from underneath you like? That’s not something you can so simply recover from. Could she be here to take her anger out on him? He would deserve it. If she was here for that, he would stand and take it without a word of protest. Swallowing a mouthful of air, he pushed out his chest and stood tall.

She wasn’t saying anything, only staring. Unable to match her gaze, he focused on the sky behind her. She’d be able to tell he wasn’t looking straight at her, but he had the shame to at least pretend. Doing nothing but standing and staring, she bore down on him. With every moment he felt smaller and smaller. Quivering lips struggled to say something, but no words came to mind. Despite all he had to say, he kept silent.

“Why are you still here?”

Her question echoed through his head several times before he mustered up a response.

“I was going to leave, but I couldn’t get my boat moving.”

Seira glanced behind him to where the kraken was roaming in the water. Her gaze returned to Galen a moment later with no change in intensity.

“You have the means, don’t you?”

“Well, ‘the means’ were actually the problem.”

A twitch in her eyes. She hadn’t expected that either.

“What have you been doing?”

“I was going to give Sybyll a burial, but then I realized halfway through digging… I had nothing to bury.”

For some reason, the truth of it, even when laid out so bare, didn’t seem important right now. The shovel and mound told the story well enough.

She crossed her paws, then began forward, toward Galen. He took a step back, only to bump into the tree he’d been leaning up against. He lost his balance, sliding down the tree trunk, and sort of fell into a sit. Seira said nothing. Her eyes didn’t leave Galen until she was standing next to him, indifferent to the breeze swaying her braid back and forth. Nimbly and silently, she took a seat next to him, just far enough away their bodies didn’t touch.

“Where are you heading?”

“I, ah, I’m going back to Uuluth. My dad’s probably still there.”

“And after that?”

Really? Is this all she really came to say? Where was the screaming? The punching, the crying, the… the SOMEthing! He deserved her wrath, yet all she wanted to do was talk! Galen grabbed at the ground, feeling the dirt dig under his fingernails as he curled his hands into fists. He wanted to grab her by the white fur on her neck and beg her to lash out. But maybe this punishment was enough.

“Probably going to head back to Nox. I mean, that’s what I assume my dad will want to do, and there’s not really…”

No, there WAS. It wasn’t his place to say, however. He’d given up that right last night.

“Hmm. Makes sense.” She leaned forward in her sit. “Where’s Toneruth?”

His hand went to the empty spot on his hip. “Gone. I never told you, but it, uh, it was part of our, of my agreement with Ahdria. She didn’t give us the key for free--she made me pledge Toneruth to her after I was done with it, and put a spell on it so it would return to her.” Galen frowned recalling the discussion. Back then, the choice had weighed so heavily on him, but now the loss of the sword seemed like something less than an inconvenience. He didn’t even know if he wanted it around any more.

From Seira’s mumble of acknowledgement, he imagined she felt much the same way.

“Would’ve been nice to have for show,” she mused. 

As the new monster lord, she must’ve been going through a lot. Toneruth as the magic weapon was basically useless now, but monsters seemed to put a lot of value in appearances. Too bad he couldn’t offer her at least that.

He blinked. That’s right. She was the new monster lord now, wasn’t she? Odd to actually put to words, to accept they’d accomplished that. The terrible storm of light and oblivion he’d unleashed last night had secured Seira’s title. Shouldn’t he be congratulating her, or something? Would she even want to hear it? A stealthily as possible, he stole a glance over at Seira. Some of her intensity had dulled off to a pensive aura. Speaking up might break her out of it.

As the seconds of silence turned to minutes, however, he couldn’t keep quiet. He’d shrivel up to nothing if he did.

“After you left--back then, in Mallus--Ahdria… told me about your mother. What she was like and such.”

Seira gave a weak smile. “I have a feeling she had a very specific image of who my mother was.”

Queasiness took over. Maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut. “She told us about her campaign to become monster lord. At least, what Ahdria knew of it. And what sort of a leader your mother was.”

“You don’t need to go over it all. I have an idea how the succubi saw my mother.”

Galen’s body began to churn and his limbs started tingling, but still he went on. “She--Ahdria--said V-Vessuub,” he said, struggling to push the words out. That name was awkward on his mouth, but Seira didn’t protest. “Well, she was very motivated. More than Ahdria had ever seen from a monster. She said Vessuub didn’t just snatch up the throne from some weakling like so many monsters before her, but actually earned it through how hard she fought for it. Ahdria said your mother had a unique group of allies who helped her take the monster lord’s castle, and that that was the main reason she succeeded.” Galen tried to gauge Seira’s reaction, but she remained stoic. “Lots of monsters couldn’t figure out what drove her, apparently, but Ahdria said it had something to do with your father.”

Seira’s nostrils flared. Was that a sneer or the beginnings of a laugh?

“Your mother’s determination showed in her rule as well. Ahdria told me what a large family you had, and how everyone did what they could to help, how the castle always seemed so busy. She said things weren’t too bad when your mother was in charge, that things had started to move, and though a lot of monsters resisted it, change was necessary. The lamia had always hated your family for taking the throne away from one of theirs, and that was something impossible to overcome in the monster’s world, yet somehow, your mother was making progress. Even with all the disarray surrounding the monster lord, Ahdria said order was seeping through the chaos. And despite all the mistrust, Vessuub had found friends.”

He lowered his head. After that, of course, Ahdria had gone into detail about how Vessuub had fallen victim to that very trust which had given her friends. How Medusuub had used the lamia’s hatred against her and built her legacy atop Vessuub’s remains.

“Hmph. I guess there’s some truth in that,” mumbled Seira.

Galen waited for her to add something more. Did it hurt that her mother’s reign could be summed up so simply? Or did she like the sound of it? Those thoughts stayed with her, however. He almost reached out to touch her shoulder, but instead curled his toes and puckered his lips in frustration. Was there no one to hear these things for her? Did she keep it all bottled up inside? Kind of like Sybyll, in a way. He mustered up the strength to push the conversation forward again.

“I guess, if it’s not too presumptuous, I’d say you’re a lot like your mother.” 

Seira looked upward, watching the tree leaves rustle, a gentle chorus always in the background, practically impossible to hear unless you listened for it. Those eyes shifted to Galen. “Did she tell you how my mother died?”

“N-not exactly…”

Seira looked away, biting her lip as her face twisted to a half-smile, half-frown. “She had the Covenant, just like Medusuub did, but you can’t touch anyone while you’ve got it on. It’s a little awkward, but you can manage. At night, though, she took it off.” She winced. “She took it off so she could feel my father as they slept together.”

A lump formed in Galen’s throat, one he couldn’t force down. “I didn’t know.”

“No one does, ‘cept for the monster who killed her.”

The wind picked up a little, running across Galen’s clothes, through his hair, against his skin. He watched it pick up Seira’s braid and play with it. Seira’s mother, in defiance of all that ruthlessness and the risk of her position, still had her own needs, her weaknesses. “I don’t think taking it off… well, it wasn’t entirely a mistake. There’s value in something like that.”

Seira closed her eyes. Her body tensed. “Are you sorry?”

“What?”

It wasn’t that he objected to the question, it had just come out so suddenly he couldn’t formulate a better reaction. Seira got to her feet, taking several steps away before stopping. She didn’t turn around.

“Are you sorry? I have to know.”

Her voice cut more decisively now, her words curt and punctual. Galen stood up as well, taking a deep breath and breathing it out slowly. His eyes locked onto the back of Seira’s head and he cleared his mind. He pushed out the beating of his heart, the thick sweat on his chest, the pins and needles on his toes and fingers, and his burning body. Pushed it all out to say the absolute truth and leave nothing behind.

“No. I’m not sorry for what I did.”

Her ears twitched. Her wings unfolded then folded up again. Her braid swung back and forth. She said nothing.

“No, I’m not sorry for turning Medusuub into a human instead of killing her. I’m not sorry I stood in the way of your revenge, that I argued against it with all I had. I know how much it meant to you, how much you needed it, but I also knew how important my decision was. How important you are to me.” He took a step forward without realizing it. “No, Seira, I am not sorry. In fact, what I did last night may be the very first thing I’ve ever done without the stain of regret. It feels so weird to the point it’s funny.” That was no exaggeration. He was almost smiling, thinking about it. “Out of everything I’ve felt since then, every wild emotion, every stray thought, there’s not an ounce of regret. Like it was a cloak or something I just left behind in the throne room.” He looked at his hand. At some point he’d raised it. “Am I sorry for some things? Yes. I’m sorry our journey had to end on such a sour note. I’m sorry I won’t be able to help you any more, that Toneruth is gone and useless. I’m sorry Sybyll disappeared and I’m sorry I never told you about that. I wish I--I wish she could’ve had more time to figure things out. I wish I could’ve gotten to know her better. I wish I could’ve gotten to know YOU better. There are so many things…” A knot rising in his throat choked off his words, but he swallowed it back down. His vision blurred, but still he made out the form in front of him. It was all he cared to see. “You can ask me a hundred times, but you will always get the same answer. I will never be sorry for THAT.”

The great void of words, the alien calm that followed threatened to consume him, but Galen pushed it back. He held his ground. Every muscle tensed as if pulled by a string. His body grew light, weightless, waiting for the silence to shatter. How could time move so slow? He’d said it. That’s what she was here for, that’s what held him down, and now he’d said it. The thoughts he’d forced from his body no longer bound him to his pain, but that chain now laid in someone else’s grasp. This was what his father had told him about, what his father had fought for so many years to get into Galen’s head, and now Galen had finally figured it out. He’d left fear behind in favor of confidence and decisiveness, and in the process, left regret behind as well.

Now, in the gaping silence, he hung on hope. And Seira answered.

“Then, I think it might not be so bad to have someone like you around.”

Galen had to take another step forward to keep from falling on his face. Was that…? Did she…? His eyes burned into her as she turned around slowly, so slowly he feared she’d never finish her turn. Everything about her exuded power, and she stood as if atop a mountain. Her wings spread, her leer cut through him and she took in a mighty breath. The manticore before him boasted a frame he’d never seen before, one stronger than iron, forced through a forge hotter than any flame could heat. Galen shrunk back on the inside, but outside, he couldn’t bear to step away. For there was still one part of her he recognized.

Her eyes.

“I claim you, Galen. As the monster lord, as Seira Khertaleon, as the manticore you’ve traveled with. You are now my mate.”

Her voice boomed in haughty and rigid tones, but Galen knew what she was really saying.

‘Have me.’ 

The space between them became nothing. Galen crashed into Seira with the intention of taking her to the ground, but with the help of strong legs and wings, she stayed upright. He wrapped his arms around her and hugged like he’d never hug again, like if he let go he’d die. He crushed his body to hers, taking in a thousand memories of her he’d never forget again. The way her chest pressed against him, the curvature of her hips, the muscles on her legs and where skin became fur. Shoving his face against her neck, he squinted his eyes shut and breathed. She smelled of sweat, of damp fur, of dirty hair, but all so much HER. When her arms accepted him, he committed to memory every curling finger, the way the wind blew her fur, and the touch of smooth paw pads against his back. His hands stuggled to grab more of her, to hug her tighter, to feel more. He would’ve died of happiness if he could just experience her more, bleed into her body and know her very soul.

His eyes opened to blurry shades of bright and dark. His nose was running for some reason, and he kept having to suck in short breaths. Why couldn’t he see so well? Blinking didn’t solve the problem, it only made things worse. He brought up a hand--though not daring to break from his embrace --and wiped his eye.

“I think I got some dust in my eyes,” was all he said.

Seira inhaled loudly through her nose and he felt one of her paws leave his back for a moment. “I think I got some in mine as well.”

“We’re hopeless, aren’t we.”

“Just one of us.”

Galen hugged until the muscles in his arms screamed in protest, then squeezed Seira to him even harder. Her paws tightened and she pulled him in closer in response. Her heart beat against his chest, just as his did hers. Galen liked how it sounded. Lifting his head off her shoulder, he sought her face, and when she looked back, he leaned in and kissed her. Not with the violence he hugged her, not with desperation or fervor, but as a matter-of-fact. He chose to kiss her, then he did. Her lips glided smoothly over his chapped lips, and their tongues met each with no hesitation. Their mouths matched like puzzle pieces, each movement of his jaw met with a corresponding movement from hers. Wet, eager tongues twisted, slipped, and caressed. Seira tasted of fire.

Galen broke away, grinning as wide as his face would allow, cheeks straining from effort. “I lo--“

Seira clamped a paw over his mouth as soon as he started talking, smiling and shaking her head at him.

“Sweet demons, you’re corny. Just shut up and hug me, alright?”

He smiled back, basking in the beauty of those crimson eyes. For all he’d sacrificed, the only thing he ended up with was a monster he’d found something in, a monster who saw something in him as well.

All in all, a good beginning.


End file.
